Simple Circumstance
by Dorky Kyuui
Summary: Nina Fey is brilliant at magic; Oliver Wood is brilliant at Quidditch. They may be Housemates, but their paths are the least likely to ever cross. However, simple circumstances say otherwise.  Oliver Wood x OC
1. Chapter 1

**Simple Circumstance**

**Rating - **T+ / PG-13+

**Genre - **Romance, Drama

**Disclaimer - **This story is, of course, a work of fanfiction. I do not own the Harry Potter series. I am not, in any way, close to or connected with J.K. Rowling, nor do I claim to be. My characters (Nina Fey, Elizabeth Bennet, Felicia Wentworth, Alexander Brooks, etc.) are clearly mine, and Ms. Rowling's characters (Oliver Wood, Fred & George Weasley, Katie Bell, etc.) are clearly hers. They've simply been blended together to create this story I now hold dear to me :)

**Summary** - Nina Fey is brilliant at magic; Oliver Wood is brilliant at Quidditch. They may be Housemates, but their paths are the least likely to ever cross. However, simple circumstances say otherwise.

**A/N** - I do love the Harry Potter series and wish to stay true to the original storyline. However, as most fanfics go, there are aspects that would have to be tweaked considerably and there are some parts, details, events, etc. that I made up. Hopefully, I haven't butchered the characters beyond recognition, but I think everyone has their own interpretation of the characters and this is mine for this story (however far off from the original works they may be). I've had this idea brewing in my mind for the longest time, and to be honest I was hesitant in posting this story at all. But after watching the last Harry Potter movie not too long ago, I found a spark of inspiration (and courage) and decided to post. Regardless of reviews or number of readers, I will stick to my initial goal of completing this story. But if I somehow managed to make this story entertaining for you as a reader then I believe I've succeeded a small goal as a writer :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – A Memorable Start<strong>

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><p>Angelina Johnson was not amused.<p>

She sat amongst the compartment full of boys with a sense of helplessness as the Hogwarts Express gradually left King's Cross Station. In less than 5 minutes of sitting down with the lads, she already felt as if she had enough doses of testosterone for the day.

"You do realize that there's a _girl_ in this compartment, don't you?" she asked, raising a brow at the four teenaged boys surrounding her. Three of them were actually speaking with such earnest interest that it was rather shocking. One, quite frankly, couldn't care less.

"Y'know, since you're a girl I reckoned you'd be interested to hear what guys have to say about the girls in our school," George Weasley grinned that infamous grin he shared with his twin.

"Could it be that you're feeling a bit self-conscious hearing what some of Gryffindor's eligible bachelors have to say about the pretty girls at Hogwarts?" Fred piped in curiously.

The fact that Angelina sat in between the two twins made it awfully convenient to hit them both by the arm simultaneously which, in turn, caused a simultaneous 'ow!' in such a fashion that only twins could pull off.

"Don't push it," her tone was one of warning, though it border-lined between playfulness and reprimand. "I hardly call you two 'eligible bachelors' with how you behave on a regular basis. And you, Alexander Brooks," she turned her attention to the sandy-haired teen in front of her who only stared back with a spark of amusement behind his dark blue eyes, "you're already taken, if I'm not mistaken. And you, Oliver Wood," she turned her attention to their brown-haired Quidditch Captain who flicked a disinterested glance her way from his copy of _Quidditch Daily,_ "I think you're the closest thing to being a 'bachelor' out of all of you, but you haven't stepped out of the almighty world of Quidditch long enough to really find out."

"You're a kill-joy."

"And you're an immature dork, but I'm best friends with you anyway."

The boys hid their chuckles to themselves, though Fred was the only one who pouted and turned his attention away elsewhere to find something else to say.

"Point taken." A question pivoted to what popped into his mind. "Speaking of being taken—how's things between you and Lizzie Bennet anyways, Alex?"

"What? Oh." He found all eyes on him. Even Oliver snuck a curious look his way. It wasn't every day that one of his best mates actually gets serious with a girl, after all. "I suppose it's going over rather well so far. I don't have any complaints."

As the boys took the response with a nod of satisfaction or acceptance, Angelina could only glance between them all in disbelief and confusion. Just 'well so far'? 'No complaints'? Nothing else? Just a shrug and a boyish smile—that's it?

"Boys," Angelina muttered with mild exasperation as she settled her gaze out the window. Judging from the start they already had, she could tell it was going to be quite the trip to Hogsmeade Station.

**— ~ —**

At eleven o'clock exactly, the Hogwarts Express began its trek to Hogsmeade Station. And at eleven o'clock exactly, Nina Fey took a step onto the scarlet-colored train and breathed in a sigh of relief.

"Cutting it rather close now, aren't we?" one of the train's guards observed as he allowed her up the steel steps.

The ebony-haired teen smiled back sheepishly, her cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and her previous haste. "Making my last year a memorable one, sir."

He chuckled and shook his head before continuing down the aisle behind him. Nina stood there for moment and heaved in another breath. It certainly was a memorable start for the year: a delayed airplane, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and an adrenaline rush later she managed to actually board the Hogwarts Express by the mere skin of her teeth. How that actually panned out, only Merlin knows. But nonetheless, she repeated that phrase—'thank Merlin'—to herself as her breathing settled to its normal rhythm.

With her navy tote bag hanging on shoulder, Nina walked down the narrow aisles in search of anyone remotely familiar. Younger faces were amongst the compartments she peeked into, mostly first years and the occasional bubbling second year. Excitement and anxiety could be seen about their faces and she smiled to herself. The memory of her own first year seeped into mind and, truthfully, a part of her missed those days.

As she got to the further end of the cart, upperclassmen's faces became more distinguishable. She squeezed past a pair of Hufflepuffs down the narrow aisle and continued to peek into the compartment windows to look for her friends. Laughter boomed from the next compartment over, and from the jumble of voices mixed into the air she could make out who they were.

She peeked through the windows, much like she had done many times already, and noted the packed compartment. It was the Gryffindor team, to be exact; minus Harry Potter, though she did see him, Hermione, and Ron a few compartments back. A small smile made way on her face as she lingered at the open door, her dark eyes catching the gaze of her friend's.

"Nina," Angelina Johnson greeted happily. "Searching for the other two?"

She smiled and nodded her head. "Have you seen them?"

"You just missed Alex. He was going to see Lizzie and Fee, actually. I think they're a few compartments down, so you can't miss them."

"Thanks, Angie. I'll see you guys at dinner then?"

With an affirmative nod from the fifth year girl, Nina smiled in passing and continued on down the aisle. But as she looked up after a few steps forward, she found herself subconsciously taking a few steps back. The frown making way across her face became difficult to withhold.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise. I wasn't looking forward to bugging Wood because of some bullshit meeting, but I'm glad that I went against my better judgment. How was your vacation, my little Fey?"

"Fine," she replied thinly.

She felt herself back into the wall. His steps continuing towards her and she could feel a rush of heat prick the back of her neck as she grew flustered.

"Y'know, I'm still shocked to see you act so cold to me after all this time, Fey. I mean, it is our last year and all. Shouldn't we act a _little_ more civil towards one another?"

"This _is_ civil, Flint."

The Slytherin smirked to himself. "So it is."

"Problem, Flint?"

Flint kept his distance once the other Gryffindor stepped in the way. Nina stepped back as well when she felt a gentle nudge to her side. At that point she realized she was no longer against the wall but in the open space of the aisle. But, for whatever reason, she remained where she stood for a few moments longer.

"Your pompous little Head Boy called a meeting in his compartment," Flint explained begrudgingly. "Prefects, Captains, and all the likes. That includes you and all the other little acclaimed House Captains. However inept their skills may be…"

"Finally admitting that you're shit at Quidditch, aye?"

"Sod off, Wood. Just be thankful I went out of my way to actually tell you."

"I humbly thank you for the nice invitation." Had Oliver Wood not been so peeved, he might've bowed his head with faux-gratefulness. "Is that all? Or are you gonna be any more of a pain in the arse then you already are?"

"My job's done for the day." Flint glanced past Oliver and smirked. "Looking forward to seeing you in classes this year, love.

Nina frowned and watched him walk away down the aisle. Oliver refrained from showing a look of loathing. He turned to head back to his own compartment but soon stopped short when his eyes caught sight of the girl beside him.

"Lizzie and Felicia are down there," he told her with polite nonchalance. "Three or four compartments down."

Nina snapped out of her daze and caught sight of the Gryffindor Captain in front of her. She noticed what direction he was pointing in and nodded her head.

"Ah… right. Thanks, Oliver," she smiled weakly at him and turned to head down the narrow walkway.

Oliver watched until she stepped into a compartment a ways down from his before rejoining his friends.

**— ~ —**

"Nina!" voices in unison called out.

A quiet laugh bubbled in the back of her throat as she stood in the middle of her best friends' tight hug. "I missed you guys too."

"I almost didn't recognize you!" Felicia Wentworth grinned as she pulled away. "You've grown out your hair over the break."

Nina smoothed out her newly swept bangs by habit. "Just a change of pace."

"Well, regardless, you look great," Lizzie Bennet commented with a smile.

"You two as well. Merlin, it's been almost three months and it feels like I'm missing everything."

As they settled back into their seats, Nina noticed the sandy-haired teen sitting beside her friend. She casted a knowing glance between them and smiled. "Joining us for the trip today, Mr. Brooks?"

"Well, I reckon having a guy joining you girls this year would be a bit of an interesting mix this time around." He stood up to give the girl a quick hug in greeting. "You girls are a curious group to be with from what I've seen."

"And here I was thinking that you were just here for Lizzie."

"That was another plus to the plan."

Nina smiled to herself and placed her bag in the storage space overhead. During the last few weeks of school the previous year, it had become a usual occurrence to have Alexander Brooks join them from time to time. Not that she minded having him around. If anything it was the opposite. She quite enjoyed his company.

Alex had a charismatic sense of character, well-grounded yet rather goofy when he chose, which was often. He also had an odd knack of understanding the female psyche when talking about miscellaneous things. Of course, this by no means meant that he was immune to having 'male moments'. He was, after all, still a guy.

"We were starting to worry that you missed the train altogether," Lizzie remarked as Nina took a seat beside Felicia.

"Yeah, you're usually here before any of us board the train. No one said they had seen you when we asked. We weren't sure whether to be suspicious or worried."

Nina took off her black-rimmed glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly at the mere thought of it all. "My flight got delayed so I got to London a lot later than I would've liked. The traffic on the way here wasn't any help either, so I'm lucky I managed to board at all."

"Flight?" Alex asked with a quizzical look.

"I live in California," Nina explained with a small smile. "I fly into London every year through the Muggle airlines."

"I see. Y'know, I've been meaning to ask you about that myself. Your accent is a bit muddled at times. I couldn't figure out where it was from, really."

"Seven years surrounded by English accents, Irish brogues, and Scottish burrs tends to do that to an American from what I can tell. Can even hear a bit of Welsh in there if listen closely enough." Felicia joked.

"No kidding," Nina chuckled. She shook her head and shared a look between her friends. "How were your summers then?"

Lizzie snuck a glance at the teen beside her and smiled. "Ours was actually quite nice."

"Quite nice indeed," Alex smirked.

"Oh, Merlin—you two act like newlyweds already," Felicia sighed.

"Come now, Fee. If we really were newlyweds we would snog shamelessly in front of you both without a care in the world."

"Alex," Lizzie muttered, her usually cool cheeks livening up to a reddened tint.

"What? You _want_ to snog in front of your friends right now?" he asked with another grin while leaning in rather close to the caramel-haired teen.

"Oh Merlin's sake, there's kiddies in the room, you two!" Felicia yelled as she covered her and Nina's eyes. Nina responded with a laugh and a playful tug to her friend's hand.

At that moment neither of them caught the flustered-faced Lizzie glaring playfully at the smirking Alex in front of her. She gave him a quick peck on his lips and a soft nudge away from her.

"You're a jerk."

"Couldn't help it, love."

Lizzie noticed her friends across from her and let out a quiet laugh. "Guys, he was just kidding. It's safe."

"Y'know I love that you two are together and all but try and keep it under PG, won't you?" Fee asked in a teasing tone.

"PG?" Alex asked with another inquisitive glance between the girls.

"Keep it so we don't have to say 'Please God' and cringe whenever we see you two together."

"I'm surprised you remembered that Muggle tid-bit I mentioned last year," Nina said, more amused than impressed.

"You two…" Lizzie sighed.

But Alex kept in stride and chuckled. "I had a feeling staying with you girls would be rather entertaining."

Nina and her friends continued on with their chat as the time went by—mostly random things along the lines of new classes, new faces, new gossip from both the Muggle and wizarding world. Even Quidditch was mentioned for a brief moment on Alex's part, seeing as he felt there should be a small snippet of manliness in all the girly talk. (He was surrounded by three 17 year-old girls, after all). But, for the most part, it was a rather enjoyable chat on nonsense amongst friends.

It wasn't too long after Fee's tale of her family's recent summer escapades around Asia that the witch pushing the treat trolley came by, asking in her usual sweetly tone, 'anything from the trolley, dears?' Alexander Brooks saw for himself how mean of a sweet-tooth the girls had from the numbers of chocolate frogs, licorice wands, jelly slugs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans boxes, and other different treats they had laid out beside them.

"Do you girls _always_ get this much sweets?" he asked as he helped himself to a pack of peppermint toads resting atop the small pile between him and Lizzie.

"It's one of few our basic traditions at Hogwarts," Lizzie beamed. "Indulge on the variety of treats on the treat trolley."

The petite blonde across from her nodded her head. "We've done it ever since we all met on the train ride when we were first years. The candy broke the ice for us."

"Ah, sounds a bit familiar actually," he chuckled.

"How so?"

"Candy always seems to bring little kids together, doesn't it? That's how I met Wood, anyways, during the first day at Rosemary Prep. He was eating a packet of licorice wands during the break and I sorta… well, just took some 'cause I was hungry. Oh, come on—you girls must've done something like that when you were kids," he added when seeing their smiles of disbelief.

"_You _stole candy from _Oliver Wood?_"

"I was five," he muttered. "But that's not my point. I stole his licorice wands, he punched me in the stomach. Five minutes later, he ended up sharing them with me anyway and we've been chummy ever since. Candy brings wonders to the world."

"For five year-old boys, maybe," Lizzie laughed.

"Wonders nonetheless, though," he grinned.

"So that's how you and Wood met. I've been curious about it myself, to be honest. But I didn't realize you two have been best mates for this long."

"And I assume you girls have been close-knit since first year?"

"'Course! We met seven years ago exactly. Well, me and Lizzie met on the platform, but we met Nina when we were looking for compart—"

Felicia's explanation was soon dashed as the train gave a sudden jolt, lurching the teens forwards or back from their seats. In another quick moment, the sudden screech of protest on the train's breaks rung through their ears, shaking the whole compartment and almost knocking them out of their seats.

"The bloody hell was that?" Alex grumbled. Despite his irritation and confusion, a sincere look of concern gleamed in his dark blue eyes. "Are you girls alright? Lizzie?"

The flicker of lights caught their attention for a moment, but they muttered their replies confirming they weren't harmed beyond their startled conditions.

"I'm fine," Lizzie smiled weakly and glanced out the window.

The rain beating the glass had worsened over time, making it impossible to make out anything that was on the other side. Even after wiping off the fog caked onto the windows, Lizzie realized it was a lost cause trying to figure out the dark outlines in the distance. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Hogwarts.

"Do you think we've broken down?"

"In all the years that the Hogwarts Express has been running, I've never heard of it actually breaking down."

"'Course. I mean it's magically run after all," Alex added in a manner of reassurance.

Silence fell upon the small group as they tried to make sense of the sudden odd circumstances. From the surrounding compartments up and down the aisle, they could hear the excited chatter meandering into the cool air. Apparently their confusion and apprehension was a shared sentiment amongst all the other students on board.

"There must be something going on," Lizzie sighed as she fidgeted in her seat.

Nina nodded her head slowly in agreement and stared out the aisle windows in search of anything that would garner much interest. She soon stood up from her seat and reached for the compartment door. As her fingertips grazed the handle, the lights in their compartment flickered and died, casting an eerie dark blue glow upon the confined space.

"Honestly, if this is some type of joke someone's pulling then it isn't funny at all. What the hell is going on?"

"Don't know," Nina muttered as she reached once more to slide the compartment door open.

"Nina, wait. Maybe we should just stay…"

Lizzie's words faded. The air around them turned frigid and tense. Every breath felt like a blow to their lungs. Fog appeared before them as they exhaled and for a mere moment, it was as if their tongues had been bewitched, unable to utter a simple sound, a garbled word.

Alex fought whatever invisible boundary set within him to stand up, ready to shake Nina's shoulder to break her from her daze, but every move was excruciating, as if a heavy anchor was in his chest weighing him down. The door had opened a few inches, but Nina stood in her place, unmoving and silent. Her gaze deadlocked on her slim fingers hanging on the door's handle, her face most poignantly blank. Before Alex could even get the chance to raise his arm, a dark shadow appeared from the corner of his eye. He couldn't even find it in him to utter a word of protest as he realized what it was before them.

Nina felt her body grow cold. Her fingertips blanched with numbness. Her breathing turned shallow, her heart rattled beneath her ribs. But she felt so lightheaded, so weightless. She felt hollow.

_Enough_.

It was a sudden unperceived blow to her chest that caused her to inhale sharply. Her knees buckled from under her and she slid against the door, her heart still racing and her eyes transfixed on the nothingness in front of her. Before she realized it, her vision had gone dark and her surroundings seemed to have gone dull.

_Enough_, she heard the voice inside her mind once more.

She shut her eyes at the mere memory until it no longer took any effort to keep her eyes closed. Her friends mumbled her name and simple words as they watched on helplessly, but they could only stay where they were, frozen and paralyzed.

It seemed as though the Dementor had lost its interest at seeing the girl pass out before it. With an arid hiss of disappointment, it moved on to the next few compartments until it left the train's cart altogether.

Nina felt herself drifting between that thin line of consciousness. Blurred figures constantly reappeared in her sight, constantly in that indecisive state of mind. Words were choppy and incoherent.

"…get help…"

"…hear me…?"

"What… happened…?"

"...Dementor…"

"…rest… help…"

But she made out one clear voice that accompanied yet another indistinct face.

"You'll be fine. You hear me, Nina?"

As generic as those words were, she couldn't help but find comfort in the confidence of that tone, the strong reassurance that was supporting it so fully. It was rather soothing, she thought.

"You'll be fine."

And she believed in that voice. Whoever it was.

**— ~ —**

"We need to wake her…"

"…tried… ten times…"

"…here… station…"

Nina heard the sounds of rustling and people speaking to each other once more. Realization struck her instantly and her eyes fluttered open. She shot up in her place but the abrupt lurch was met with a harsh sting penetrating the top of her skull. Her friends watched her with a range of bewilderment and relief in their eyes.

"Nina—!"

"—you're okay!"

Their tight embrace only confirmed Nina's previous suspicions. She had kindled a small hope in her, thinking that what happened was nothing but a bad dream, an awkward—yet troubling—reverie. But her new-founded awareness didn't soothe the unease that remained embedded in her bones.

"How… long was I out?"

"About two hours," Felicia replied with brows furrowed in worry. "We've already arrived at Hogsmeade Station. We were starting to think we would have to have Alex here carry you out if we couldn't get you up."

"I'll be fine. I'm alright," she murmured blearily, rubbing her face into the sleeves of her sweater.

"What happened earlier, Fey? With that Dementor and all?" Alex voiced in a solemn but concerned tone. "Do you even remember it?

"Well… yes. But I-I don't know—I mean, I was at the door and I opened it a bit, but then I froze up. Everything in me just felt so cold. I couldn't move, I couldn't even think. I can't really explain it that well, but I just felt… empty."

"It's the effect of the Dementors," Fee reasoned quietly. "You got the brunt of it because you were standing at the door…"

"I suppose that's true," Nina murmured, almost cringing at the unsteady thumps beneath her chest.

Lizzie and Alex shared a look of apprehension between them while Felicia only rubbed her friend's shoulder soothingly.

"Here," Alex motioned something in her direction and upon looking up she realized that it was a small bar of chocolate.

"What…"

"It'll help you feel better after encountering that Dementor. One of the professors came by to check up on you and mentioned it. Told us specifically to make sure you eat some."

"Isn't that Lizzie's though—?"

"Nina, don't even worry about petty things like that right now. You clearly need it more than I do at the moment. And if you say another word about it, I'll force-feed you myself."

With a weak smile, Nina took it and nodded in thanks. She took small bites at first, not particularly in the mood to eat anything after what had just happened. But as the chocolate melted in her mouth, she felt the uneasiness in her stomach diminish. It didn't even occur to her that she had ravished the chocolate entirely until she caught the amused looks on her friends' faces.

"You're looking a bit better now. You're not as pale anymore. And you've certainly got your appetite back," Lizzie humored.

Alex let out a conspicuous cough and motioned to the door. "I'm just… gonna wait outside and let you change and whatnot, Nina. We really ought to get going."

"T-Thanks, Alex," she smiled sincerely as he walked past, to which he only grinned and ruffled the top of her hair.

"It's bad karma not to help out a girl, Fey."

"Me and Lizzie'll go with you too," Felicia added. She gave her friend a comforting smile. "We'll wait outside for you. Don't take too long, alright?"

Nina nodded her head and got her bag from the storage space above her. Lizzie stayed for a few moments, watching her friend's movements with a scrutinizing stare and apprehension deeply seeded in her voice.

"Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Better than before, yes." She noticed the flicker of concern in Lizzie's cerulean eyes and smiled back reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Alright. We'll be outside then."

Nina watched as the compartment door slid close before allowing the heavy sigh to leave her lips. True, she felt immensely better thanks to an unlikely little sweet, but the memory of those previous effects stung just as hard as the experience. Why it affected _her_ as harshly as it did, she had no idea. Of course she was standing at the doorway—but why couldn't she even move? Why couldn't she even _feel_ anything?

The thoughts continued to loiter about in her mind, taunting her with a mystery that she would probably never understand, haunting her with a memory that constantly made her wince. But she put in her best effort to look as if it hadn't.

After running her numbed fingers through her long dark locks, she began to change into her Gryffindor uniform. It didn't take too long considering she already had on her black stockings underneath the skirt of her blue floral dress. With her crème-colored sweater and dress neatly folded into her bag, she tucked her white button-up blouse into her skirt and slid on her school's charcoal-grey sweater. She traded her brown laced boots for a pair of simple black oxfords and placed them neatly into her bag as well. Another pang of lightheadedness struck her as she reached for the compartment door, but she shook off the feeling and headed down the aisle for the exit of the train.

The rain created a thin layer of noise over the chatter going about the station. A few groups of students lingered under the overhang of the station, waiting for friends to step off the Hogwarts Express as well. Nina spotted her own friends waiting near a pillar and flicked the hood of her robe up to hide from the rain.

Just as she reached Lizzie and Fee, so did another person trailing right behind her.

"I heard my little Fey fainted not too long ago," Flint mused aloud. His own cronies stood a short distance away, smirking and grinning in a pompous way that only Slytherins seemed to master.

"Sod off, Flint. Leave her alone," Lizzie frowned.

"Guys, let's just go," Nina tried to persuade quietly as she stood between them.

"I'm only showing my concerns towards a _friend_. You don't have to be such a bitch about it, Bennet."

Alex scowled, instantly stepping between the Slytherin and his girlfriend. "Watch your mouth, Flint. Nina doesn't need your shite concern so leave her alone. Call Lizzie a bitch again and I'll bloody hex you myself."

"Alex," the girls started in flustered unison. But Nina was the one who managed to get her words to stick.

"Just move on," her voice almost pleaded. "He's a troll. You know he's doing this on purpose."

Alex wasn't the slightest bit convinced that he could leave it as it was. But he saw the look on Lizzie's face—a concerned expression that tottered between pleading and uncertainty—and exhaled in hopes that it would help vent his anger.

"Listen to your girlies, Brooks. They're a smart bunch, these three," Flint smirked.

He sent the Slytherin a cold glare that could've matched up to the prick's House standards and placed his hand on the small of Lizzie's back. "Let's go."

Nina frowned at the Slytherin Captain before her, unable to say or do anything else. Once her friends turned to leave, she followed their steps, not once thinking to look back behind her even after the Slytherins' jeers.

"Should've expected that much. What's a pathetic Mudblood like that gonna do?"

Alex heard his words and whirled around to punch the bloody bastard himself. But before he could even think of such a reaction, he and the girls turned around only to catch sight of Nina Fey—possibly one of the most kind-hearted and non-confrontational Gryffindors they had ever met—pointing her supple wand of cherry wood and unicorn hair at the small space above Marcus Flint's Adam's apple. And judging from the offensive stance she took, she was by no means joking.

"_Never_ call anyone that," she warned coolly.

The look in Flint's steely eyes hardened. "Turning into a fierce little Gryffindor _witch_ after all this time, are you? As much of a turn-on that is, it doesn't change what you really are. You're no better than him," he sneered in a voice that only they could hear over the beating of the rain. "Half-bloods are no better than Mudbloods like him."

He showed no inkling of intimidation in his body language, even with the tip of her wand thrust against his throat. Slowly, she lowered her arm and pocketed her wand in her robes, the intense blaze in her dark eyes unwavering.

"You're no better either, Flint."

Perhaps it was because of the incident earlier that caused her to stand there, staring at the tall dark-haired teen with such contempt. Perhaps it was because of that brief void of any valid emotions from earlier—a rapid buildup, if you will—suddenly rushing through her veins that created such a terrible imbalance of reason. She was angry; rightfully so, in fact. Yet on a normal basis she would never act upon such anger. Truth be told, Nina Fey was never angry—or rather she rarely ever showed it, if at all.

"Not gonna finish what you started, Fey? How unlike you."

But in that moment, she could only ball her hands into fists as she resisted the urge to slap Marcus Flint in the face for saying such rubbish to her. Felicia noticed the silence that fell between them, with only the heated glares in their eyes to continue with the quarrel. She walked forward and grabbed Nina by the elbow.

"Nina, c'mon."

The world around them seemed to have roused from its short-lived standstill. Voices belonging to miscellaneous people arose from its former quiet state and time seemed to have continued to inevitably tick on for everyone present.

Nina exhaled and followed her friends to the carriages. Lizzie and Alex lingered behind this time, making sure Flint didn't say or do anything else. But his silence was kept as he watched them walk down the path with a small smirk playing across his face.

For the most part, Nina felt much better once she stepped into Hogwarts Castle. There was something about the orange glow, the smell of burning candles, the myriad of stars enchanted into the stone ceilings of the Great Hall. It left the feeling of home that was like being engulfed a warm embrace, smothered with kisses of recollections and good times.

With the sorting finished and the choir's welcoming song coming to a subtle end, their Headmaster rose from his seat and went on to list the upcoming news for the year. New professors would step in for the old ones: Rubeus Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures, which earned a hearty round of applause on behalf of the Gryffindor House. And a new face was introduced amongst the group of teachers as well: a Mr. Remus Lupin, Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Hey, that's the guy from earlier," Fee pointed out quietly in surprise.

"You're right," Lizzie rose her brows. "I wouldn't have pegged him for a Professor at first glance. I bit scruffy in appearance, to be quite honest."

"Makes sense how he knows so much about the Dementors though," Alex shrugged. He noticed the confusion surfacing on Nina's face and continued, "He's the teacher who checked on us on the train earlier. Told us about the chocolates to give you when you woke up."

"My only hope is that he better than our last DADA teacher…"

Alex snorted. "Gilderoy Lockhart? The bloke was a bloody menace as DADA professor last year. The first years could've probably done a better job."

"I think any of us could've done better, for that matter."

Nina nodded her head slowly, smiling in silent agreement at her friends' words, and turned her attention back to the Headmaster's speech. For a while, she felt a pair of eyes on her, watching. Her dark gaze wandered up to the teacher's tables ahead of them and found Professor Lupin staring in her direction before flickering his eyes to a young, raven-haired teen a ways down the table.

_That's right…_ she went on to think. _Harry passed out as well, didn't he?_

For a short while, Nina stared in between the two of them, delved into deep thought and wonder. Worry, of course, for Harry—she had no doubts his experience with the Dementor was no better than her own. But there was also a small sense of gratefulness towards the Professor, even though she hadn't rightfully met him quite yet.

Their Headmaster's words began to lose meaning in Nina's mind, but she shook her head to make the whirling thoughts cease. It was at that point that he had confirmed everyone's thoughts: Hogwarts would, in fact, play host to Dementors for the year—courtesy of Azkaban Prison and the infamous Sirius Black. The mere mention of the dark creatures was enough to make Nina sigh to herself, already feeling the dull ache radiating at the sides of her head.

"You alright there Nina?"

Nina smiled back wearily and gave a gentle rub to her eyes. "Yeah. Just a bit tired is all."

Fee gave a reassuring pat to her friend's shoulder before turning her eyes back to Dumbledore as he began to conclude his small speech. As Nina slid her black frames back up to the bridge of nose, she tried to focus intently and do the same.

Yet as she sat there, she still felt the faint sense of being watched. Her eyes roamed around the room briefly, even back to the teacher's tables at the very front of the Hall. But she quickly dismissed the idea, musing to herself that it was just her imagination and her tired body playing tricks on her perceptions.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 830/2014_


	2. Chapter 2

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Doubts and Tempers<strong>

* * *

><p>September 2nd marked the official beginning of Nina's seventh year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In truth, she felt that it was rather odd to lie there on her bed, conscious of the fact that it was the beginning of her last year. Yet she felt no different from the years before. No change of heart, no profound insight, no sadness, no excitement—only drowsy for more sleep.<p>

Just as she closed her eyes in hopes of seizing a few more moments of snoozing, she felt a pillow hit her square in the face, startling her out of the lingering slumber.

"Felicia!" came her muffled whine.

"Up and at 'em, sweetie," her friend laughed.

Nina sat up in her bed, already feeling her hair askew in its tangled mess. After a second of rubbing the last of the sleep out of her eyes, she looked around and saw Felicia already dressed in her Gryffindor uniform and robes.

"What time is it?" Nina wondered aloud while she slid out of her bed.

"Almost 8," Lizzie replied as she stepped out of their lavatory.

Nina nodded and gathered her clothes before walking past her friend to take a shower. Within 20 minutes she came out dry, fresh and clean with the scent of blossoms in her hair, much with the help of a little charm to dry her long locks. She left it down for the day and got her bag full of the textbooks and booklets she would need for the year.

With another swift brush through her hair and her glasses quickly thrown on, she headed down the stairs and into the common room where she found Lizzie and Felicia waiting for her. A few other students were lounging around and talking with friends, waiting for the school year to start just as they were.

"A new record," Felicia teased.

"I try my best," Nina beamed as they headed out of the commons.

The Great Hall was filled with students munching away on their breakfasts and comparing their schedules. Nina and her friends settled for an empty spot a ways down the Gryffindor table and began eating their meals, unflinching at the sight of their schedules surfacing on the empty space beside their plates.

"My schedule is pretty much the same as last year's," Lizzie said after a bite of her blueberry muffin. "Except I have Double DADA and Double Transfiguration instead now. Can't say that I didn't expect that, but those NEWT-level classes were murder on me last year, I'm telling you."

"Looks like I'm in the same boat as you, Liz. Lockhart as the DADA professor last year was a complete and total disaster. Honestly, I could've passed DADA if it weren't for that bright-eyed loony! It's bloody irritating. My only hope now is that this Professor Lupin fella actually _knows_ what he's talking about before he starts teaching it…"

Lizzie gave the petite blonde a reassuring glance. But nonetheless Felicia felt herself sneer at the memories of their 'fascinating' class under the control of the 'highly proclaimed' wizard, Gilderoy Lockhart—one of which Lockhart rambled on in gibberish to quell a Boggart he had let loose on the class during a moment of his 'grand' lecture.

_Alternative method my arse!_—she chided mentally.

Quite frankly, if it weren't for her, her firm wand of willow and dragon heartstring and a _riddikulus_ spell, it could've ended rather badly for everyone that day. DADA was without a doubt one of her favorite classes but last year it was more of a nuisance than a pleasure.

"What about your schedule, Nina?" Lizzie asked curiously in hopes of lightening up the mood. Though she found that it wasn't any better for her other friend.

"It's different from last year's… But it's alright, I suppose."

"Oh? Then what's with the look on your face?" Felicia wondered aloud.

The frown that she had pointed out had yet to fade as Nina skimmed over her schedule one last time. "It says here that I'm sharing two of my classes with Slytherin now."

"Ouch… One of them is Potions," Lizzie commented after a quick look over.

"Bad luck…" Felicia said sympathetically. "We have DADA with Slytherins this time around too."

Nina slowly pushed her cup of yogurt away from her, losing her appetite at the mere recollection of their rival House. The memory of the day before seeped back into her mind and she felt her brows crease.

She had been angry, yes—for Merlin's sake, she _threatened_ the twat that evening with her own wand—but for it to even escalate to such levels had surprised her to no end. She had never risen a wand to anyone before. There was the occasional duel required in DADA, of course, but never in any other circumstances.

_It was the Dementor_, she reasoned after a while.

And of course it must've been—surely_, _it must've been. Her emotions were unstable after the encounter and she allowed such instability to rule her judgment in that split second it took to take her wand and point it at him, ready to utter an _expelliarmus_ spell in his face to knock him back far greater than any of them could've perceived. She _wanted_ to, from what she can recall. But she didn't. And a part of her was genuinely glad for that.

Frankly put, Nina Fey hated confrontation. She could hardly recall any instances in which she was involved in a spat. If anything, she was the one attempting to calm others down, trying to find some form of peaceful resolve. But if neither could happen, then she would be one of the first to leave the room all together. So imagine everyone's surprise—or at least the ones who honestly knew of her nature—seeing Nina Fey with her wand out and at the ready, pointed at another human being with cold intent.

Of course, that person was Marcus Flint himself, which shouldn't surprise anyone from any House—or any year for that matter. But the point being laid in the fact that Nina didn't feel like herself in that moment. That livid, unconcerned self. Why that was so, she hadn't a clue.

_It was the Dementor_, she reasoned again.

And that was what she concluded. Though, the mere thought caused a sudden dull ache in the back of her head. She wondered if the memory had created an unintentional conditioned response every time she thought of it. And, surely enough, the word 'Dementor' was repeated in her mind and the dull pain radiated at the top of her skull.

"Everything alright Nina?" Lizzie questioned as she shook her friend's shoulder.

"Getting awfully quiet on us," Felicia added with raised brow.

"No—I'm fine," she recovered in an instant. "Just… dreading class a little bit now."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She wasn't quite looking forward to going to class as much; not with possibility that _he_ could be in them as well. But Lizzie and Felicia knew their friend all too well, and they were quick to react.

"Don't worry about it too much, Nina," Lizzie gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "The chances of you and that troll being in the same class are slim to none. I highly doubt that he got the OWL marks to even qualify for a spot in NEWT classes anyways."

Having this simple fact pointed out loosened the anxiety Nina had pent up inside her. Lizzie made a strong point, after all. One would need at least an 'E' to even be considered into her Transfiguration and Potion classes. And there was no—absolutely, _no_—possible way that he could be in either with his marks.

"I… suppose you're right."

"There! See now, cheer up!" Felicia piped in merrily.

Nina nodded and pocketed her schedule. The bell rang soon afterwards, signaling the last ten minutes left until the first classes of the day started. With her belongings in hand, she stood up and joined her friends in the gradual flow of students exiting the Great Hall. They came to the staircase and parted ways—Lizzie and Felicia going upstairs for History of Magic while Nina continued on to Transfiguration.

Once she entered McGonagall's classroom, she saw that it truly followed the expectations of a Gryffindor-Slytherin class. Half were dressed in robes with the scarlet lion insignia while the other half had the serpent entwined in dark green.

Looking around, she caught sight of the familiar faces from her House. But it didn't occur to her how late she arrived until she saw the few open seats available. Two were unoccupied amongst a group of Slytherins, but she opted for the last one in the very front row next to a fellow Gryffindor. Or rather she assumed, and hoped, that he was a Gryffindor. She wanted to get through the class as painlessly as possible, Merlin willing. Getting scowls thrown her way in the mornings wasn't something she would enjoy seeing on such a regular basis.

As she walked up to the dark mahogany table, a surge of surprise ran its course through her mind. But she felt a small smile make way on her face nonetheless as she cleared her throat softly.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Oliver Wood had been sitting in Transfigurations for a decent amount of time, consumed in his notes and scribbles of Quidditch and its new plays and stratagems. It surprised him that he had already gotten two or three full pages of notes down for the upcoming season in a matter of minutes. Without a doubt, he spared no free-willed thought to add into his collection of observations, ideas, and sketches. He was putting his whole heart and soul into winning the Quidditch Cup tournament that time around. It was his last year, after all—his last chance at it. He wouldn't settle for anything less than perfection.

He had only stopped from his revisions at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice rising beside him. As his dark eyes glanced away from his notebook, he felt a mixture of interest and wonder hit him.

"Nina Fey." The question she had asked finally registered in his mind and he motioned for the seat beside him. "Go ahead, take a seat."

She smiled back in thanks and laid her bag on her corner of the table before sitting down. Oliver went back to his notebook, skimming over a page for a brief moment but unable to retain what he had just read. In truth, sensing the presence of someone beside him was suddenly more distracting than he would've liked.

His gaze wandered off to the girl beside him and he watched as she took out all her necessary materials for the class—a notebook, inkwell, quill, textbook.

"You're looking better today."

Nina was almost startled at hearing that Scottish burr. It was so rare that she got a chance to hear it, really.

"Pardon?"

"Compared to last night on the train, I mean. You had us worried a bit."

"Ah… I'm okay now though. I feel a lot better today." She stared at him for quick second, unsure of what else to say. "You… heard that I fainted?"

"I saw you, to be honest. When Alex came by our compartment for help, I went to see if there was anything I could do."

"Really?"

"Who do you think got Professor Lupin to check up on you in the first place?" he added with a small grin.

"Ah… So, then, that was you that I…"

Oliver strained to hear her as she trailed off. "Sorry?"

"Oh… no, I mean—" As Nina allowed the thought to mull about in her mind, the realization that struck her became apparent in her soft features and round brown eyes—a sight that the Gryffindor Captain could openly see for himself. She bit her tongue for that second, and mustered up a meek smile. "I mean, I should thank you then. For helping me out and all."

He shifted in his seat a bit uncomfortably. "I couldn't do much, really. I just made sure you were still breathing and got a teacher."

"A noble act nonetheless, though. Not many people would step in to do something, so thank you."

"No problem. I'm just glad to see you're up and well again."

Nina gave a curt nod and turned her attention to the Transfiguration textbook in front of her. Oliver pulled back his sleeve to glance at his wristwatch and sighed. Only a few more minutes until the final bell rang, though he thought it seemed much quicker than that.

"Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Ah… no, go ahead."

"Were you really gonna hex Flint? At the station last night, after we stepped off the train."

"Wha— you saw that too?"

"Me, the rest of my team, and a hand full of other fifth years. Might've even scared a first year or two while you were at it."

Nina sighed to herself, feeling a bit more sheepish now that someone had actually brought up the incident before her. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it seconds later. She revised her attempt, this time with more thought into what she really meant to explain.

"I _wanted _to. But I really couldn't."

"You wanted to punch him also, from what I could tell," Oliver added in amusement.

"But I didn't," she reaffirmed with a nod.

"Alex told me what Flint said," he went on to say. "He wanted to pummel the bloody git himself, but he was more dumbfounded that you were the one who actually acted up first. From what I gather, it's not something you usually do."

"It isn't, no, but… it was a bit more of a reflex now that I think about it," she muttered more to herself than aloud.

He shrugged his shoulders once more and leant forward in his seat. "I was just a bit curious. I wanted know myself what your side of it was."

"You wanted to know if I was really going to hit him?"

"I wanted to know if you were to the type of person who would." He stared at her earnestly, catching her off-guard for a moment's pace. "And from what I can tell you aren't that type of person at all, which makes the fact that you were two seconds away from hexing the git that much more incredible."

"I'm a bit surprised myself, really…"

"Can't say that I wasn't disappointed when you didn't, though. It would've been interesting to see Flint get punched square in the face by a girl," he said with a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Nina caught onto this rather quick and couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped her.

"A flaw of character when it comes to our House rivalry, I'm afraid. I can't really hurt anyone even if I wanted to."

"That's a flaw?" Oliver chuckled again. "I reckon that's a strong trait of character."

"Well—I can't be… _mean_ to anyone," she tried to further clarify.

Oliver rose a brow. "Not quite sure how that's a flaw either. Unless, of course, you were a Slytherin. If that was the case, then being _nice_ is one hell of a problem. But clearly, you're a Gryffindor. I'd imagine that would be the least of your worries."

"I'm not… _assertive_ enough," she finally said after a moment of thought.

"Ah, _that_ one I can see as a problem then. You probably might need to get that one sorted out if you wanna go head-to-head against another batch of sulky Slytherins."

Nina's soft laugh was soon drowned out by the final bell echoing throughout the classroom. A thought came to her mind and she glanced up at the Gryffindor Captain with a curious gleam in her dark eyes.

"I just realized that this is the most we've ever spoken to each other, Oliver Wood."

He turned his head to lock eyes with hers and felt the corners of his lips twitch, alluding to a faint smile across his handsome features.

"I believe it is."

Nina turned her gaze to the back of the class at the sound the door closing and watched as Professor McGonagall walked down the aisle to the front of the class. In that instant, however, she caught sight of steeled grey eyes accompanying a crooked grin she wished her memory was capable of forgetting.

She watched as he took the last of the unoccupied seats within the group of Slytherins and turned around to face the front, adamant in her refusal to look his way from then on.

He actually made it into NEWT-level classes. He was actually sitting in the same room as her, learning the same repertoire of spells, skills, and knowledge pertaining to the art of advanced Transfigurations.

_How…?_

— **~ —**

For the rest of the class period, Nina tried to focus solely on Professor McGonagall's lecture of conjurations. It was relatively easy to do, considering she and Oliver sat in the very first row. But numerous times throughout the period she felt those cool steel eyes staring at her from across the way. And each time she didn't give him the pleasure of meeting his gaze, seeing his smirk, getting her riled up as she may have on a normal basis.

Her emotions were intact since her contemplations earlier. She knew that they had gotten the best of her the night before, but she was intent on making sure it wouldn't happen again.

"What do you have next?" Oliver asked as he slung his knapsack over his shoulder.

"Charms. You?"

His face scrunched up slightly. "History of Magic."

"Good luck, then," she said with a sympathetic smile. "Try not to sleep for too long in his class. Five minute power naps usually does the trick, from what I've been told. It'll get you by his class for the day, at least."

"Easier said than done," he muttered wearily.

Nina chuckled and tucked her books under her arms, walking down the aisle to leave the Transfiguration classroom. To her surprise, Oliver fell into step beside her as they headed for the door. But even as they lapsed into a comfortable silence, she didn't think much of it.

Since the start of class, Oliver had been debating over whether or not to say the words buzzing in his mind. It was largely due to his apprehension that made him so indecisive. Yet as they reached the open corridors, he quickly made up his mind.

With a soft tug at the back of her robes, he stopped the ebony-haired teen from walking any further. She turned around, confusion clearly etched in her brows. But she remained quiet as he led her aside, allowing the steady flow of students behind them to continue on their merry way.

"This might make me sound like a bit of a prick, but I'm curious to know," he started to say. Nina nodded, signaling him to continue. "How serious do you think Lizzie is? About Alex, I mean."

"Lizzie? You mean how serious her feelings towards him are?"

Oliver took note of the look on her face and rose his hands defensively. "Not that I'm accusing her of anything. I know Lizzie fairly well myself, so I know for a fact that she isn't some slag. But you're her best friend—you'd know things I'm nowhere close to knowing."

Nina sighed and readjusted the strap of the bag hanging on her shoulder. "I can ask you the same question, you know. I know Alex well enough to see that he's a good guy, but I honestly don't know him as well as you do."

"Answer my question first and I'll answer yours."

"She's… quite careful," Nina phrased delicately. "Not the type to rush into things like this, that is. She's had a few run-ins with guys that think with their… well, you know… _desires_ before actual logic." Oliver caught on to what she meant to say quite easily, though it didn't stop him from smirking at the sudden blush that crept upon her cheeks. She cleared her throat quietly to hide her embarrassment and continued, "But Lizzie—she doesn't just cling onto every guy she sees, you know."

"So she fancies him well enough, does she?"

Nina smiled reassuringly in response to his apprehensive gaze. "She likes him a lot, Oliver. Truly_,_ she does. I'm one of her best friends—I would know. I can see it for myself. She's really just… _happy_."

"I suppose that's good to hear then," Oliver relented.

Truth be told, it was _very_ good to hear. From his perspective, at least. He didn't necessarily doubt Lizzie as a person—not in the slightest, really—but he did harbor small doubts over the feelings she had for Alex. In his brash, straightforward, Oliver Wood way, he wanted know if Elizabeth Bennet genuinely fancied Alexander Brooks, or if it was one of those fleeting crush-like phases he knew girls frequently had.

Of course, if she truly felt something for the lad then what right did he have in tearing that away from his friend? He wasn't that much of a heartless bastard to sabotage such an invaluable sentiment. But if it was a silly crush, anyway, then Alex didn't need to waste his time. And Oliver sure as hell didn't need the additional headache-inducing drama that trailed behind such short-lived feelings. Merlin knows he's had more than his fair share of it in his recent years.

But from what Nina had told him, he could be rest assured that he needn't worry about the relationship of Lizzie Bennet and Alex Brooks. And Nina Fey was no liar—or at least, that was what he strongly believed in. Of course he hadn't truly _known_ the girl for too long—only about two hours officially, by that point—but he had seen and heard of her more than enough times to form a faint perception of what kind of person she was. So far, he concluded, she hadn't proved his impression wrong.

"Oliver?"

He came to his senses at hearing the sound of his name and lowered his gaze to Nina Fey herself. She smiled slightly at him.

"Did you hear me?"

"Err… I was a bit lost in thought there," he admitted apologetically.

"I asked about Alex. What do _you_ know about him?"

"That guy?" he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "In all honesty, he's crazy about Lizzie."

Her face brightened. "Is he?"

"Horribly so. Wouldn't stop talking about her throughout the summer break. Even though she spent most days out of the week with me and him, he would gush on about her if she left his side for more than five minutes."

"So he cares about her that much?"

"Looks like it."

She gave a faint nod and exhaled, rather relieved. "I'm glad then. They make a cute couple. And you could tell just by looking at them that they care an awful lot about one another."

"I s'ppose that's true. But it doesn't hurt to double check their priorities."

Nina stared at him for a second and allowed the smile to meld onto her face. "You're a good friend, Oliver." He quirked a brow, to which she further explained, "Looking out for Alex like you just did."

But at this he rolled his eyes playfully. "Merlin knows he needs it. A bit on the eager side, that lad is. He'd rush into a fight with his wand out and ready if he's given the chance. Someone needs to watch his back from time to time. He's done the same for me a few times already. I'm only returning the favor."

"Rather admirable of you, Oliver Wood."

"Chivalry's a strong trait in Gryffindors, Miss Fey."

"So I've seen for myself," she laughed.

He thought for a quick second and eyed her skeptically. "You… won't mention this to Lizzie or Alex, will you? I'd never hear the end of it if they knew I was snooping around all this."

"I wouldn't even dream of it," she said honestly. "It wouldn't make much sense if I were to tell them anyways. Besides, I think we both got what we wanted out of this conversation, haven't we?"

"I reckon we have," he grinned.

She hid a smile into her sleeve—a nasty habit that needed work, she realized—and simply cleared her throat, taking a tentative step back in the process. "Well, we should… probably head to our next class now."

He glanced down at his wristwatch and nodded. "Probably should then."

"Good luck with Professor Binns," she said again with the same sympathetic smile.

"Gonna need it," he chuckled wryly.

With a small wave in parting, she turned around to head down the corridor for her Charms class with Professor Flitwick and Oliver did likewise in the opposite direction for History of Magic.

Even though he was going to a class as dull and mind-numbing as History of Magic, he didn't quite mind as much at that point. For a moment, he actually thought Binns's class would be tolerable enough for the day.

— **~ —**

At half past 3 o'clock that afternoon, Nina stepped into the Potions classroom situated in the Dungeons. She was one of the first few to arrive that time around. A few Slytherins were present as well, but they honestly paid no mind to her when she stepped into the stone-walled chamber. They continued on with their hushed conversations and she went on with her own business sitting at one of the tables towards the back of the room.

Overall, the day had been pleasant enough. Charms had always been one of her favorite subjects, and thankfully the class would be shared with other students of Gryffindor House. Even Alexander was in her class, which she thought was rather nice considering she hadn't shared a course with him since fifth year.

After lunch, she had another break before her next period, though she spent the majority of that time in the library preoccupied with her Charms work. But, in truth, it was a bit more of a pastime than anything else. Potions was her last class of the day and, quite frankly, she didn't wish to attend. The mere thought of it had been overwritten with the thick packet of parchment her mind had officially labeled as 'homework'.

But it was an inevitable occurrence hearing the bell ring throughout the Castle. And despite her body moving at its sluggish pace, reluctant and unenthused by the mere notion of sharing a class with Slytherins the second time that day, her conscience had overruled her reluctance. Potions—even when shared with the Slytherins and taught by the Head of Slytherin House—was not a class she could afford to miss.

Gradually, as the minutes passed by, the classroom began to fill with seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Nina sat on her wooden stool, focused on the Transfiguration chapter in front of her with mental notes of topics drifting about in her mind. It may have been the first day of school, but Nina had already been encumbered in a pile of work—and from only two classes to boot. Professor McGonagall especially wasted no time assigning a week's worth of homework—that week, specifically, calling attention to ten parchment pages worth of advanced conjuration spells along the lines of _fiendfyre_ or _procella_.

"And so we meet again, Fey."

After hearing that voice, every bit in her felt like groaning in frustration. She still held onto that lone optimistic thought, half-heartedly believing that Marcus Flint had _no_ chance of landing a place in a NEWT-leveled Potions course. But for the second time that day, she was proven quite utterly wrong.

"Flint," she greeted coolly, not even bothering to look up from her textbook.

"It's been a while since we've shared classes," he smirked. "It hasn't happened since, what—fifth year?"

She watched from the corner of her eye as he took a seat on the stool beside her, but she said nothing in response. Her eyes continued to skim over the chapter before her without so much as a noise of further acknowledgement. Noticing this himself, Flint grinned. After all those years, this side of her was one of his favorites.

"You were surprised when you saw me in old McGonagall's class. I saw that myself." Again, he was met with silence but he continued on in a rather haughty tone, "You can imagine my own surprise then, when I got an 'E' on my OWL exams."

Nina didn't bite her tongue quick enough. "How did _you_ manage to get an 'E' on your OWL exam?"

"There's that sexy American accent again."

She turned away from him in a flush, to which he chuckled darkly in response. There was an all-too-familiar flicker behind those dark grey eyes, one that she had seen time and time again in the past. But she wanted no part of it.

"That Helping Wands program does wonders, doesn't it? Those Ravenclaw half-bloods are one hell of a group if they're able to help me pass that old witch's class. And with flying colors apparently."

The glare in her eyes soon transitioned into one of disgust and abhorrence. It was quite possible that he and almost everyone else in his House were incapable of properly complimenting a person without making such a snide remark of their 'blood' heritage. The whole Slytherin mentality of supreme 'purebloods' was one of the most absurd things she'd ever heard of in the wizarding world.

_It's a crockpot mindset,_ she mentally frowned; a mad idea that allowed 'purebloods' to pin blame on harmless people when their own capabilities were at fault.

At that point in her life, Nina's dislike for Flint had grown ever more resilient. And that year would be rather wearisome, she could tell. How odd that he upheld his House's beliefs of supremacy over the other Houses—loathing even the simplest trace of anything garnishing Godric Gryffindor's name and contemptuous at the sheer thought of all half-bloods and Muggleborns. Yet he himself fancied her company in particular; a Gryffindor half-blood witch.

"You're a prat, Flint…"

"And you're getting more fiery as the days go by, my little Fey." He leant in closer, smirking at the sight of her small frame shying away from him with disdain evident on her face. "Last night and even right now—I've never seen you so heated before. I have to admit it's unexpected, even for you. But it's an attractive feature of yours, now that I see it myself."

"Leave me _alone,_ Flint."

"You see, girls always say that but they never mean it, do they?"

She refused to meet his gaze at that point. Her body felt tense being under the scrutiny of his dark grey eyes and she wanted nothing more than to Apparate away from the Dungeons. She wanted to heed no warnings from her conscience that would scorn her for missing class just because of an insufferable Slytherin. She wanted to just _leave_.

"You're in my seat, Flint."

But the sound of that voice made her stop from doing just that.

The Slytherin looked over his shoulder and silently cursed a string of unmentionables at the sight of the Gryffindor Captain standing there; his knapsack over his shoulder, cauldron in hand, and a somewhat smug look upon his face.

"Wood," Flint greeted dully, though the expression displayed across his features spoke more than enough for itself.

"You're not as daft as you look for actually getting in this class," Oliver commented; if anything, faintly impressed.

"Picking a fight already, Wood? And here I was thinking Quidditch camaraderie would lead to your strong suit of compassion."

"_Your_ camaraderie can kiss my Scottish arse, Flint." He motioned to the stool the Slytherin was sitting on and rose his brows expectantly. "Do you mind?"

After a moment of an icy standstill, Flint snorted. A glare was most prominently directed at the brunette as he stood up, but neither teen moved an inch further from their place. There were no traces of intimidation in their eyes or their expressions—both of which were eerily placid, to some degree.

The classroom had grown quieter as various voices were hushed and pairs of eyes watched the scene before them with a sense of anticipation or offhanded curiosity. But Nina could only stare with furrowed brows and worry sinking in the pit of her stomach.

"Oliver—"

"If you two wish to fight, then by all means please do. But _not _in my classroom," a cool voice boomed from the doorway.

Oliver watched as a sly grin made way on Flint's face. "To be continued, Woody-boy."

The Slytherin grabbed his pack and walked down the aisle towards the last seat amongst a group of his Housemates while Oliver sunk down onto his with a sigh. Professor Snape strode towards the Gryffindors' table and narrowed his gaze on the teen before him.

"Considering it is the first day of class, I am feeling rather gracious today. However, if you disrupt my classroom again, I _will_ give you detentions and points _will_ be stripped from your House. Is this understood?"

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, but hid it impeccably well. "Yes, sir."

Snape turned to the girl sitting beside him and rose a brow. "Perhaps, Miss Fey, you can help monitor your House Captain's temper, lest these outbursts cost you dearly as well."

She blinked repeatedly and glanced at Oliver, who quirked a brow in sheer interest. In truth, she looked more confused than compliant.

"Yes, sir."

With one last look between them, the Potions Master turned for the front of the class, already starting his review of the Felix Felicis potion in all its properties and components.

"Monitoring my temper?" Oliver whispered to her.

Nina glanced in his direction and smiled discreetly. "_Will_ I need to monitor your temper, Mr. Wood?"

Oliver turned his gaze to the pompous git in the front row before letting it drift to the almighty Head of House leading the class with a particular underlying sneer in his voice. A drawn out sigh left his lips and he continued on with his notes.

"Don't know. But we'll find out soon enough, won't we? It's gonna be a long year."

Nina smiled to herself and turned her attention back to the lecture drifting in and out of her ears, only to have her eyes turn downcast in seeming interest of a page in her notebook. Professor Snape had been watching her from his podium with a warning, almost challenging, glare before he continued on with his lecture.

But even then the small smile never quite left her face.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 621/2015_


	3. Chapter 3

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Old Friend, Dearest Friend<strong>

* * *

><p>Autumn had swept over Hogwarts Castle, which meant the Quidditch season was soon in tow. Oliver Wood had been firm in scheduling practice and schoolwork to coincide for once in his whole Hogwarts career. With Quidditch first thing in the morning before classes, the rest of his day was left open to focus on his studies. And as the last few weeks had shown, it was a rather practical arrangement for his final year. Especially considering he finally decided to listen to his parents' persistent rambles and sign up for a few NEWT-level classes.<p>

Oliver wasn't daft. He was actually quite the capable wizard when given the opportunity. But for the last five years, he had his focus and attentions elsewhere—more specifically, Quidditch. It was his life, after all; something he quite literally planned on making a career out of once he graduated. However, his parents had made a point as well, which had been drilled and berated it into his skull for the last few years thanks to their efforts: bullshite grades were frowned upon no matter what world you wished to foot in. And so, he yielded. But it wasn't too much of change, really.

He always had a keen talent for Transfigurations, visibly so with the 'O' on his OWLs. And his 'O' in DADA was well-deserved as well. But Potions was the surprising addition to his schedule that year. It wasn't his most natural gift—the 'E' he had was mostly acquired through procrastinations, late-night studying, and downright damn luck when both had failed his memory. Nonetheless, Snape approved of his grade and allowed the lad into the NEWT-leveled course. Although, at that point in the year Oliver was still debating over whether this was a worthy feat or not.

Quite frankly, Oliver would've been out of his mind had he agreed to any more NEWT classes. Three was quite the limit already on top of Quidditch and his other classes' work. If he had Nina Fey's schedule—one that he saw when he asked her about it one day—then he most likely would've killed himself from pure exhaustion alone. Six NEWT classes in total, on top of two Double electives. Amazing, really—and it's quite notable to say that she was doing well in all of them.

With his mind slowly turning dull from the workings of a _Patronus_ charm, he looked up from his DADA essay and glanced at the girl across from him. She was wearing casual clothes that day, much like him and the majority of the Hogwarts student body that Saturday afternoon—a navy blue and gold pullover, simple blue jeans, and laced oxfords that she likes to wear often. Nothing too spectacular for a day within the Castle grounds.

But Oliver continued to stare at her much longer than he meant to.

They weren't the closest friends, of course. But they were rather good acquaintances, given their circumstances of sharing three classes together. No words were necessary to fully explain it; they simply just clicked.

Perhaps this did not hold much significant meaning since Oliver had an odd knack of getting along with almost anyone he chose—which, in truth, was practically anyone apart from the majority of Slytherin House. But it was a curious thought for that moment.

Nina was a tad reserved, but certainly a kind-hearted person; bloody brilliant at magic and intelligent overall to boot. It was a wonder how she hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff with her considerate nature, or even Ravenclaw with her obvious intellect. But, as it was, she was a Gryffindor. And probably one of the least likely people Oliver would've expected to get along with. But, at the same time, she was quite possibly one of the easiest people he had ever spoken to.

As he pondered about it a moment longer, he simply leveled it down to the fact that he could talk to her about anything that came to mind and not seem like some bloody git. Even Quidditch could even be mentioned and she wouldn't consider him as obsessive as others claim.

_Quidditch._

Now that he thought about it, he never even considered bringing it up before.

"What about Quidditch?" she asked him while finishing a sentence in her Charms assignment.

He blinked. "What?"

"You… mumbled 'Quidditch' just now… didn't you?"

It didn't even occur to him that he had spoken aloud.

"Err… right. You and Quidditch."

A befuddled look appeared on her face. "Pardon?"

"I mean what you do you _think_ about Quidditch."

Nina eyed him strangely before letting out a soft laugh. "You're an odd guy, Oliver Wood. How'd Quidditch come to mind when you're writing a DADA essay?"

At this, though, he shrugged. "Sudden piqued curiosity, I suppose. It came to me after I saw your pullover. Puddlemere United colors."

"My pull…" she moved her arm out of the way, allowing the both of them to clearly see the front of her hoodie. "Ah… I forgot Puddlemere had the same colors."

"Puddlemere United fan, I assume?"

"Not quite," she admitted sheepishly. She glanced down at her hoodie once more and Oliver took notice of the letters stitched in gold. "I got this from a friend of mine. She goes to one of the magic schools in America."

"P-I-M-L?"

"PIML," she nodded with a smile.

"Pimmle…?"

Oliver watched as she hid her quiet laugh into her sleeve. Despite how lost he felt, he found it difficult not to smile along with her. She did that quite often—hiding her smile or laugh somehow—which was rather unfortunate. One of the first things he noticed about her was the fact that she had a pretty smile.

"Yeah. Pacific Institute of Magical Learning. PIML. It's located in the town I live in back home."

"California?"

"California," she nodded again.

"Do you two mind?" an annoyed voiced asked from the next table over.

He was surrounded by three others who shared the same look of irritation about his face. Judging from the emblem stitched onto their satchels and the all-too-familiar textbooks stacked atop the mahogany table, both could tell they were fifth years of Ravenclaw House. Oliver simply quirked a brow at the underclassmen, but Nina gave them an apologetic smile.

"Sorry guys," she whispered.

They turned back to their assignments, still a bit miffed but nonetheless quiet. As she turned back to the Gryffindor Captain sitting across from her, she threw him a playful glare and continued on with her Charms work. Oliver held back his grin and almost did the same, but the question in the back of his mind prevented him from fully concentrating.

His gaze wandered back to the girl in front of him yet again and he watched as she read from her textbook. Her elbow propped up and cradled her chin in the palm of her hand. There was a deep furrow of her brows as she silently read to herself, ink-stained quill resting listlessly in her other hand. The page in her book showed her class was chapters far ahead from his and, truth be told, Oliver felt bad breaking such form of concentration.

"You haven't answered my question."

Nina met his gaze in an instant. "Which one?"

"Quidditch."

Another smile tugged the corners of her lips. "Should've expected that question coming from a Captain such as you."

"And I'm actually a bit curious to hear what a bright witch such yourself has to say."

"Well… I like watching the games here. I'm not the _biggest_ fan compared to a lot of people in our House." She took notice of his amused face and shook her head, "and I'm not much of a Quidditch player myself, but watching you guys play and hearing about the matches—it's fun."

"Any favorite teams in mind?"

"Other than the House teams here? Honestly, I don't really know," she admitted with the same sheepish sort of grin. "I don't follow Quidditch that much. I mean, Lizzie and Fee share the same opinion of Quidditch as me. But in the States, one of my other friends, Cameron—he loves the sport. He's told us so many times before that the Ballycastle Bats were his favorite team, so me and Annie always cheered for Puddlemere whenever he mentions it, just to annoy him."

"Ballycastle's a damn good team," Oliver acknowledged with a nod. "Their Seeker is one of the best in the league, and their strategist is well-known for his defense. 'Course, even with all that the Bats don't stand a chance against Puddlemere. It'll be an interesting match between them, I'll admit. But I'd bet my two galleons on Puddlemere any day."

"Glad to see the rivalry between those teams is still as strong as ever," she smiled faintly as she glanced up from her homework. "There's a reason why we chose Puddlemere to cheer for, you know."

He smirked. "I didn't realize you could be so cheeky."

But she shrugged innocently in return.

"We're only teasing him. If anything, though, he's one of the main reasons why I like the sport. And he's absolutely crazy about it. Almost…" She glanced at him with a curious tilt of her head, "…kinda reminds me of you, Oliver. You both are really passionate and driven about things you guys love. And, in some ways it can be rather…"

"Obsessive."

"Actually, I was going to say admirable."

Oliver blinked, uncertain if whether he had heard her correctly or not. But after a moment of pensive thought, he leant back into his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a first."

"No one's ever complimented your efforts at Quidditch before?" she questioned in mild amusement.

"Never really took notice before."

"Well… there's a first for everything, isn't there?" she smiled.

Oliver returned the gesture with a faint smile of his own before lowering his gaze to his DADA essay. The small break served as a nice distraction for just a few minutes, and as he turned his attention back to the parchment laid out in front of him, he found it much easier to focus. Nina saw this herself as he went on with his_Patronus_ charm essay and she smiled discreetly to herself.

For whatever reason, Nina Fey liked Oliver Wood's company. And from what she could gather, he shared the same sentiment as her; otherwise the circumstance of sitting across from one another in the library while finishing up homework would not even occur in either of their minds.

As her gaze lifted from her Charms packet, she caught sight of Oliver skimming through his essay with a gleam of concentration in his dark eyes. His black fountain pen twirled effortlessly between his fingers and she found herself enthralled at such simple yet fluid movements. He did that often—spinning a pencil or a pen while lost in thought—and she never quite took notice of it until that moment.

The way his lips thinned into a line whenever he grew serious, the ever so subtle crease of his brows whenever he noticed something askew—she never took note of it until that moment, when she finally concluded why it came to be so easy to speak with Oliver Wood as she had. Even as they sat at the library without so many words passed between them, it was quite obvious in her eyes.

They felt rather comfortable with one another.

"Hey, Nina. Hey, Ollie. I had a feeling I'd find you two here," a cheery voice got out beside them.

Nina shifted her stare to the pretty blonde standing by their table and smiled in greeting. The smile on the newcomer's face reached her honey brown eyes and Oliver nodded in her direction as she leant against the chair beside his.

"NEWT homework, I'm guessing?"

"Charms," Nina said.

"DADA," Oliver sighed.

"Ouch. Tough subjects all around."

"Just a little," Nina replied with a small smile.

"To be honest, I'm still a bit surprised Ollie here is even in NEWT classes," she teased as she patted her friend's shoulder. "For a bloke who's got an obsession for Quidditch, he's actually got a strong talent for magic. Quite the deceptive image, isn't it?"

Oliver heard Nina chuckle into her sleeve again before watching her nod her head in agreement.

"Thanks Katie," he muttered sarcastically. With his essay now pushed aside in his mind, he glanced up at her and rose a brow. "What brings you here anyways? The only times I've ever seen you step foot in a library is during mid-terms and final exams week."

Katie glared playfully at him but couldn't bother to deny his words. "I was just passing by and remembered that I wanted to ask you something. Seeing as how you're not at the pitch for once, Fred and George told me you've taken to coming to library every now and then."

He shrugged. "Ravenclaw has the pitch this weekend. And I needed the downtime to catch up on my homework anyways. What'd you need to ask?"

Before either could get in another word, Nina slowly stood up from her seat, causing the wooden chair to screech quietly as it slid against the stone floor. She felt her cheeks heat up faintly as both pairs of brown eyes landed on her in confusion and surprise.

"Oh—no, sorry, don't mind me. I was just gonna let you two have a moment to—"

"No, wait—I didn't mean to interrupt you two. You don't have to go," Katie tried to explain.

"It's okay. I already finished my homework, so I was gonna head back up to the Tower soon anyways. But, um… it sounds like you two need to talk, so I'll see you guys at dinner?"

Oliver gave a curt nod and Katie nodded as well, though more in an abashed manner than anything else. With a small wave goodbye, Nina pushed her chair back into the table and walked out of the library with her bag on her shoulder and Charms textbook tucked neatly to her chest. The pretty blonde glanced in her direction as she left and gave her Captain an apologetic look.

"Did I disturb you two from anything?"

Oliver tore his gaze from the length of parchment in front of him to catch a glimpse of Nina's retreating figure. "We were only doing homework. And we were practically silent the whole time. It's not like you interrupted too much."

"Was that all?" She almost sounded disappointed. "I was hoping there would be more to that."

Oliver's quirked brow hadn't dropped, which only made Katie grin in return. "You two were rather chummy when I walked in. I just thought there was something more to it, is all."

"What'd you want to ask, Katie?" he sighed.

It was quite obvious that it was a discussion he felt they no longer needed to divulge into. A sigh and grumble was always a tell-tale sign of his deflection in conversations, though Katie was still debating over whether or not to prod the thought any further. She got out a simple 'hm'—just an ambiguous and contemplative 'hm'—before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back further into her chair.

"Well, I just wanted to remind you about a certain person's birthday coming up," she resigned with a shrug.

Oliver grew pensive for a moment, trying to scrounge his memory for any recollections of a friend's birthday. But none came to his mind immediately. This, he clearly voiced. "What birthday? The only person who has one coming up is yours. But that isn't until two months from now."

"Exactly. It's better to constantly remind you now before the days come shorter. Otherwise, you'll forget about it completely with your focus being torn between classes and Quidditch at the moment. Wouldn't want another repeat of last year, would you?"

"And have you pissed off at me for a good three weeks? Hell no."

"Yes, well my anger was properly placed," Katie grumbled. "What kinda bloke actually _forgets _about his friend's birthday?"

"I remembered."

"You gave me a birthday card and chocolates that you bought on the way to my house," she countered with a raised brow.

He faltered for a second. "They weren't."

"The receipt was still in the birthday bag, Oliver," she laughed, though not as bitterly as some might've expected. It was now an amusing memory in the back of her mind; something that reminded her that her friend was an absolute _guy_ when it came to forgetful birthday mistakes.

It was a good thing he had decided to get her something at all. If he were empty-handed then Merlin help him. The fact that the chocolates were one of her favorites was another thing that wasn't too frowned upon. But nonetheless, it had gotten him a scolding and the cold shoulder for a short period of time.

"But at least I remembered," he stated firmly, as if that made all the difference in their discussion. And, truth be told, it somewhat did.

"Let's hope you remember this year, Mr. Quidditch Captain."

"Any plans this year then?"

"A little. We're celebrating it on the same day we're having the New Year's Eve party since it'll save a bit of money and effort. I mean, having a birthday party and then a New Year's Eve party three days later is a tad bit overkill, I'll admit. You and your parents are coming this year, aren't you?"

"Depends on Granma Mabel and Granda Jasper," he explained as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's their turn to host the family tradition this year, but they planned on going to Rome for the vacation. If they really do go on this second honeymoon they've been going on about, then we'll probably be there."

"Aww, they've been raving about it for the longest time. I hope they get the chance then. It'll be a win-win situation for everyone. Oh!—which reminds me as well. The question I wanted to ask you…"

Oliver stayed quiet, signaling for her to continue; though, he quickly took note of the faint twinkle in her eyes.

"It's actually more of a _favor_ in the form of a question."

"Go on, then."

"Would you go with me to Hogsmeade to help pick out a dress for the party?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' hell…"

"Please Ollie? It'd really help!" she insisted with the tug on the sleeve of his dark grey jumper.

The reluctance was rather apparent on his face. "Where's Angie and Alicia for all this?"

"They're behind in some classes," she griped. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick gave them mandatory study sessions during the weekend for the next few weeks to help get their marks up."

Oliver ran a hand through his short brown hair, searching for anything to get him out of such a request. The last time he complied only resulted in a very frustrated Katie Bell on the verge of tears and a very guilty Oliver Wood trying to mend the impossible—the male's mindless utterances that replied to the age-old question: 'does this look okay?'

At the age of 15, he had learnt a valuable lesson on what the universally accepted response was to this question (and many others like it)—just simply nod your head and smile. But he'd also learned to _never_ shop with a girl—especially at her request—ever again.

"Do I _really_…?"

"Next week is one of the only Hogsmeade trips there are before the break. And if I wait for the one before we leave for the break, there will be absolutely no selections to choose from. I'm only asking because it's a last resort, so _please_? Please, Oliver?"

One hesitant look into those honey brown eyes and he found himself nodding in spite of himself.

"Fine."

**— ~ —**

Nina stepped into the Gryffindor common room feeling rather content with herself. All her homework for the week was caught up and she could finally relax for the rest of the weekend—something she hadn't been able to do in quite a while. A few groups of her fellow Housemates lounged on the armchairs off to the side, talking and chatting away idly, while others had taken a table somewhere in the alcoves of the room to study or read.

As she caught sight of the familiar faces on the couches near the fireplace, she felt a small smile make way on her face.

"Fancy meeting you three here," she said as she leant against the armchair in front of her.

"Miss Fey," the Weasley twins greeted warmly. Felicia looked up from her book at the sound of that name and offered her greeting in the form of a smile as well.

"Finished studying, have you?" Fee asked.

"For the night, yes," she sighed tiredly. "Have you three been doing another one of your tutoring sessions again?"

"Surprisingly yes," Felicia gave the two twins a look that border-lined between reprimand and curiosity, "but these two aren't actually that bad at DADA or Transfigurations. I'm almost wondering _why_ I was asked to tutor them in the first place."

"At the behest of Professor McGonagall, dearest Felicia," one twin mumbled as he thumbed through his textbook randomly.

"If anything, you and George are well off anyway."

"We think so as well. But McGonagall is rather adamant in having us actually do our work this year…"

"Then why don't you?"

"We do."

"Eventually."

Nina glanced between her friends in amusement as they continued with their quarrel of work ethic. The three had an odd tendency to pick little fights every now and then, but out of good humor than anything else. And honestly, Nina found their little bouts rather funny to watch. Never had she needed to actually intervene; their small spats were rather quite lighthearted in nature and hardly got to such levels, which was something Nina didn't mind at all.

For the most part, a small understanding that was intended to last only a few days had actually turned into an interesting friendship over the last few weeks. It had grown as a common occurrence to have Nina and her two best friends in the company of Fred and George Weasley sometime throughout the week. But truth be told, she did like the Weasley twins and she enjoyed their company immensely. They were interestingly fun; by far, too cheeky for their own good but nevertheless good guys above all.

"Oi! Watch where you're throwing things, woman!"

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. It was only a pillow, it'd take a million hits before you actually get brain damage."

"How mean…"

"Pillows can be very damaging if thrown the right way, y'know."

"What in the world, George…?"

Nina shook her head at the three and chuckled. "Alright, alright. No more arguing. We're all friends here, aren't we?"

The three Gryffindors glanced between each other—the twins grinning and Felicia pursing her lips in thought.

"Of course—"

"—the best of friends."

"It's incredibly hard to stay angry with you two," Felicia mumbled.

"That settles it then. Now that we've got that out of the way, we can go to dinner now. I don't know about you three but I'm starving."

"I'm a bit hungry myself," shrugged Fred.

"We haven't really eaten anything since breakfast anyway," added George.

"Off to dinner we go then," Nina smiled. She stepped back towards the girls' dormitory staircase and caught their attention. "Just let me put away my things first."

"We'll wait for you then."

With that said, Nina walked up to the dorm she shared with her two best friends. Everything had been in the same exact position she had left it that morning—the same crimson comforters and sheets, the same locked and charmed leather-bound trunk resting at the foot of her bed, the same trinkets and picture frame resting on the nightstand beside her pillow. All of it was an oddly comforting sight.

She placed her satchel on her four-poster bed, rubbing her tired eyes for a few seconds to get rid of the sudden grogginess that struck her. A yawn escaped her lips and she stepped into the lavatory. The cool water was rather refreshing against the flush of her cheeks and she felt more awake than ever. Yet as she glanced into her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but notice how tired she looked.

It was rather unnoticeable to those who only caught a glimpse of her, but Nina knew better. The subtle dark circles forming under her dark brown eyes, the uneven tone to her pale face, the sudden ache in her bones and weight upon her eyelids. She could tell.

_It's been like this since school started, hasn't it?_—she wondered to herself.

The sound of tapping broke whatever words of reassurance she offered for herself and she dried her face quickly with the wave of her wand when she couldn't find a towel. From the window beside her bed, the distinct tapping continued. In an instant, she walked over to open the glass window and smiled at her great-horned owl as he perched on the windowsill.

"Hey, Rufus," she cooed softly as her fingers stroked his soft dark brown feathers.

Rufus gave a quiet trill and dropped the letter he held in his beak into her hand. The familiar calligraphic strokes spelt out her name and nothing else, which only made her smile wearily.

"Thanks Roo."

He gave an affectionate nip at a stray strand of her long locks and allowed her to break the golden seal of the neatly folded letter.

_Dearest Nina Fey,_

_I would like to firstly say congratulations. You have officially started your final year at Hogwarts and I couldn't be any more proud of you. Seven years it's been since you first arrived in those stone halls and was sorted into Gryffindor. You could only imagine my surprise at hearing such pleasant news. I had always assumed that you would follow in your mother's footsteps and be sorted into Hufflepuff. You are quite like her in certain ways, you know. But as I have said many times before, I couldn't be any happier that Gryffindor is your rightful place. As I'm sure you know for yourself, it's a wonderful House indeed._

_It's amazing, though, how all these years have passed and you are close to being on your own in the wizarding world. Your aspirations to become a Healer have not changed, I assume. I have a feeling you're well aware of this, but I am here for reasons such as these: the applications for St. Mungo's must be completed and turned in by the end of this year if you wish to have them consider you for the upcoming apprenticeships in the summer. The recommendation letter you've received from Madam Pomfrey should be turned in along with your application to help them see your potential. Though, if it is you applying I have the utmost confidence you will be accepted, and I have no doubts that you will be a brilliant Healer._

_Potions, Herbology, and Charms were always your strongest suit. Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic are also quite high and deems no complaints. The same could almost be said for Transfiguration, but I think it would be wise to consider practicing the subject whenever you can. Nonetheless, your marks are near impeccable, and I can only urge you to continue this progress._

_This year's allowance is the same as all the others: 1000 galleons. It's been added to your bank account recently. If you need more for any reason, do not hesitate to ask._

_Before I end this letter, I ask you to heed my last warning: do not go off tangent this year. It is, after all, the most vital in your Hogwarts career. I am informed of what goes on at school on a regular basis, and I do not wish to hear about you suddenly causing a ruckus in any way or form. Any distractions should be disregarded, though I hope this forewarning will not have to be applied at all._

_I hope you all the best this year. Give my regards to your mother and step-father._

_Sincerely,  
>Your dearest friend<em>

As Nina read through the letter one last time, another quiet sigh left her lips. The letter came a bit late compared to ones in the past, but it still managed to be the same as all the others—blunt in some aspects and strangely vague in others.

'Dearest Friend' (as she's come to call him; or rather she assumes he's a 'he') had inadvertently been a part of her life for the past seven years. It was a bit off-putting receiving his letters at first, but over time she came to realize that he knew her family quite well—her mother, even her father, as he wrote from time to time.

Granted, she never knew who he truly was, nor did she know what kind of wizard he was. But it was almost impossible not to trust him as much as she had over the years, especially considering the extent of his altruism. Had he not offered to pay for every year's tuition—along with textbooks, uniforms, and all the likes—then attending one of the finest wizarding schools in the world would have certainly been out of the question. He was, without a doubt, the reason she was attending Hogwarts at all.

"Nina? What's taking so long?"

It was at that point that Nina realized that she had been sitting at the windowsill for quite a while. Rufus had long gone, leaving only a stray feather from whence he once stood, and Felicia had appeared in the room, standing at the doorway with a slightly impatient but puzzled look about her face.

"Ah… sorry, I just got a letter, is all."

"From Annie?"

She smiled weakly and stood up, placing the letter beside the picture frame on her nightstand before closing the window.

"Hope things are doing well then," Felicia said as she hooked arms with her best friend.

"They are," Nina reassured.

"Good! Now, let's get to dinner. I haven't eaten anything all day either and I'm just as hungry as you are."

Nina didn't say anything after that—she simply gave a nod and a smile. But the unsettling feeling that sunk to the bottom of her stomach didn't go unnoticed.

It wasn't her intention to lie to anyone, especially not to her friends, but it was a secret she had to keep to herself for a bit longer. Only because she realized that it was a secret, among many others, much beyond her grasp at the moment.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 621/2015_


	4. Chapter 4

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Pepperup Potions and Disappointments<strong>

* * *

><p><em>They warned you, <em>her mind chided_. They specifically warned you._

Nina sniffled spitefully to herself, though her body seemed to have retaliated by causing the irritating sensation in her sinuses to make her eyes water. With a soft groan, she slipped her glasses off to wipe her damp eyes with the sleeves of her robes before trudging down the corridors to the hospital wing.

The bell had yet to ring but a good number of students had passed her as she walked down the first floor's halls. Judging from the time on her wristwatch she had been constantly checking since her trek, she had less than ten minutes until the start of first period. Though knowing Madam Pomfrey and her tendency for thorough Healing, it may take longer to actually finish.

With a tired sigh, Nina stepped through the doors of the school's infirmary and tried to catch sight of the resident matron. She couldn't smell the usual scent of clean linen and sanitary air, which only seemed to have made the grimace on her face worsen.

Nina hated being sick.

"Just a second!" she heard from the office to the side.

Poppy Pomfrey needn't to see nor hear whether there was someone in the hospital wing; she had an odd gift of sensing it, something she seemed to have perfected over the years. Though at that moment, Nina pondered less of this uncanny ability and more on whether she would be able to get over the bout of sickness before class started.

She coughed quietly into her sleeve and sniffled once more before finally locking eyes with the grey-haired matron emerging from her office.

"Miss Fey!" She rushed over to her instantly and felt her forehead. "Goodness, dearie—you're burning up. It's a surprise to see you coming in here to be treated. Usually, it's the other way around, isn't it?"

Nina offered an abashed grin. "I prefer helping you Heal others than having to be the one being Healed."

"Don't we all," she sighed. The reality of the situation struck her once more and she ushered the teen towards the office. "Right—come now, come with me. We'll need to give you a batch of Pepperup Potion if you want to get better."

Nina watched as Pomfrey gathered a glass cup from one of the cabinets beside the water basin before walking across the room to the Potions cabinet she held under lock and key—or rather wand and charm, in this case. Nina had done this herself many times before on her own, but it was still odd nonetheless to be on the receiving end.

"How long have you been sick?" Pomfrey asked as she poured the brew in the glass.

"Erm… since yesterday, technically." She rubbed her eyes after another bout of irritating sniffles. "I had a feeling I was getting sick last night but it got worse when I woke up this morning."

"Common colds usually do," she murmured. "And I take it you don't wish to stay here for the day to recuperate?"

Her expression held a glimmer of hesitation. "I'd… rather not, ma'am."

"I know you rather too well, Miss Fey. It's odd that you come here on a regular basis yet you're rather tentative by the mere notion of staying here when you're ill or hurt."

"One of my few moments of irony, I suppose."

Pomfrey smiled and handed her the glass. "Well go on then, you only have a few minutes left till the final bell rings."

Nina tried to hold back a look of distaste as she stared at the all-too-familiar liquid that reminded her, oddly enough, of the setting sun—orange and red and yellow mixed into an unappetizing concoction that garnered more feelings of upheaval in her stomach than overall serenity.

"Come now, dear. You know you have to drink it if you wish to get better," the matron urged in her motherly tone.

With another passing moment and sigh of resignation, Nina pinched her nose and downed as much of the drink as she could in one go. The potion was horribly bitter to her taste-buds and unusually tingly to her mouth. Like the Muggle sodas and carbonated waters she had numerous times before.

A shudder shook her whole body as she handed the glass cup back to the matron and a disgusted groan that almost everyone experienced had followed not too long after that. There was an unmistakable burst of steam gushing through her ears and she winced at the uncomfortable sensation.

"It won't last long," Pomfrey started to say, motioning to the steam venting through the Gryffindor's auditory canals. "It's not as strong as it could be, but it'll certainly tone down your flu so it's more bearable."

True to her word, the hot rush through Nina's head had ceased only moments later and her sense of smell was gradually returning to normal. The itchiness in the back of her throat wasn't completely done away with and certain joints in her body still throbbed. But nonetheless, she smiled in appreciation at the much needed relief.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"No problem at all, Miss Fey. Make sure you come back during lunch to get another batch of potions to clear that cold of yours. The one you took right now only lasts a few hours, I'm afraid."

"I will."

Nina gathered her belongings in hand, all while holding in a cough tickling the back of her throat. Another smile was thrown in Madam Pomfrey's direction as she walked past her for the corridors, and she was half-way there when the matron called out her name once more.

"Miss Fey. Take some time off later on today to rest, won't you? You look awfully tired. Have you had trouble sleeping lately? Or have you been under any stress?"

The Gryffindor tensed up in her place for a split second before cajoling her muscles to relax as she turned to the older woman. "I'm fine, ma'am. Just haven't been sleeping as well as I should be."

"Explains why you've gotten sick then. Well, go on, get to class. I don't want to have you be late to Professor McGonagall's. We'll talk about this later on today when you come back."

With a curt nod of her head, Nina waved goodbye and headed out of the hospital wing tower. Once she was a reasonable distance away, she heaved a long sigh to herself and ran a hand through her long dark locks. The tired ache in her joints bothered her again—both caused from her lack of sleep and sudden case of cold—but she knew she had to deal with it for a few more hours.

In truth, it didn't quite take much for Nina to see the point Madam Pomfrey was trying to make. It was something she had known all along since yesterday when the first symptoms began. She was constantly tired, hardly got a good night's rest, and even though she couldn't quite notice it herself, she was under quite a debilitating amount of stress.

_Lizzie and Felicia warned you_, her mind voiced once more. _They told you to get more rest since Saturday, but you didn't listen to them._

She coughed quietly into her sleeve and turned a corner to head to the Transfiguration classroom. Her wristwatch showed less than a minute left to get to class but at that point, she couldn't even bother to rush. Her mind and conscience were much too tired and jumbled to have her care.

"Nina?"

At the sound of that voice she turned around curiously, only to raise her brows in surprise as he approached.

"Oliver," she tilted her head and frowned. "You're late."

He chuckled wryly. "I can say the same for you as well. I can't seem to remember a time when you were late to class."

"I can't either… But I do have an excuse though. What about you?"

"Quidditch practice. I lost track of time and barely managed to end it before the bell rang."

She took note of his damp brown hair—fresh from the shower, had she guessed—and nodded. Her newly cleared sense of smell caught onto a specific scent, one she couldn't exactly place. It was like a mix of crisp open air from knolling hills and a faint earthy spiciness that tickled her nose. As she turned her head slightly to look at the Gryffindor Captain beside her, she felt her cheeks heat up in an instant.

"Cutting it rather close now, Mr. Wood," she mumbled.

"Then what was it that deterred you from coming to class on time, Miss Fey?"

Nina tried to hide the cough itching to break through in the back of her throat by clearing it as politely as she could. The heat she felt in her cheeks remained, though it was difficult to distinguish whether it was because of her cold or because of her sudden embarrassment.

"Just needed to see a professor first," she simply said.

Oliver accepted her answer as it was. Quite frankly, that was the only plausible reason that came to mind. But the crease in his brows hadn't dropped, even when they reached the door that led to their Transfiguration class.

He reached out to open it for the both of them, but he found himself taking hold of her elbow instead. The bell had rung in that instant, but it was quite possibly the last thing on either of their minds. She flinched as he raised her arm a bit and he quickly took note of the puzzled look surfacing on her face. But at that moment, he also noticed the flush of her cheeks and the haggard look nestling under her eyes. It didn't quite set right with him—it hadn't for the past few days.

"Are you alright, Nina?"

"I'm fine," she got out in confusion. "Why?"

Oliver released her elbow when she glanced down at his hand, but he only sighed to himself. A note of his observations teetered on the tip of his tongue, but he quickly bit it back and reached out to open the door in front of them instead.

"Nothing. Ladies first."

Nina smiled weakly and nodded in thanks before stepping into class with Oliver trailing a step or so behind her. Professor McGonagall eyed the two seventh years with a sharply arched brow but remained quiet until they reached their table.

"Miss Fey, Mr. Wood. Glad to have you join us. Unfortunately so, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your tardiness," she said in her usual straight-laced tone.

"Yes, Professor," the teens murmured quietly.

After another moment of scrutiny under her dark green eyes, she turned back to address the class, reminding them of an upcoming test of cross-species transfigurations later that week before picking up where she left off in her lecture.

Nina sat there in her seat, an ebony quill in hand and her notebook open to a fresh new page. Yet even after listening to the professor's lecture for the last five minutes, she found her mind unable to retain any of those words in the hazy oblivion she called her memory.

Another coughing fit came from the back of her throat, but she turned to muffle it into her elbow. For the most part it didn't disturbed anyone, but Oliver stole a glance her way at the sound of a quiet sneeze and mumbled a 'bless you,' to which she nodded and smiled back in thanks.

For a while Oliver went on with his notes, listening intently to McGonagall's overall review of transfiguring a human into non-human forms and all its effects. But beside him, he sensed Nina shifting about in her seat uncomfortably, almost restlessly. His eyes wandered toward the girl once more and realized that despite her gaze on the table before them, her hand hadn't move at all, and there wasn't a single word written in her notebook. A curious sight, he thought.

It wasn't too long before he saw the familiar clouded look in her eyes and everything made sense.

During the later portion of the class, when McGonagall allowed the seventh years to practice transfiguring a conjured cat to different breeds with non-verbal spells, Oliver watched Nina from the corner of his eye. He managed to complete the feat himself quite nicely numerous times, but for the girl beside him it was rather different.

She had quite the rough start at first. Her muddled haze of a mind was the cause of her inability to focus on anything, really. But the bird-like wings she had managed to sprout on the back of her conjured cat was enough to jolt her mind from its previous blurred state.

Oliver chuckled to himself, untransfiguring the cat for her before Professor McGonagall had taken notice, which only made Nina flush and hide another cough into her sleeve. A frown quickly overtook the small smirk toying about his face.

"You're getting sick, Nina," he stated simply.

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

He sighed and reached over to place his hand on her forehead. Nina flinched at the feeling of his calloused hand brushing against her skin, but could do little to nothing else in response.

"You're warm to the touch. And you've been coughing non-stop since you got here." His hand fell back to his side and a stern look appeared on his face. "Go to the hospital wing. I'll tell McGonagall so you can—"

But she shook her head once more. "I've already taken a potion to help."

"You've visited Pomfrey already?"

She gave a meek nod as her eyes fell upon her silver and black tabby cat that had now curled into a ball on their table. Her fingers brushed against the back of his head, stroking its soft fur absentmindedly. "I'll be fine after I go back during lunch."

"That's why you were late?"

She nodded again, which only made Oliver shake his head. He had his suspicions for the last few days, of course, but he didn't put too much thought into it. Now that it was rather obvious, it irked him a bit. He almost wished she told him the truth about it earlier instead of stretching it.

"You'll go during lunch for sure then?"

"Promise."

"If you don't, I'll drag you there myself."

"I don't doubt that for a second, Oliver," she got out with a soft laugh.

Professor McGonagall walked past their table, glancing at their conjured cats. Oliver's was now a gorgeous Siamese while Nina's remained as a Scottish Fold after she became unwilling to try with her lack of focus. The older witch gave a curt nod of satisfaction before moving onto a fellow Housemate who had raised their hand. Oliver waited until their Transfiguration teacher was out of ear-shot when he turned his gaze back to Nina.

"Why is it that you didn't stay there in the first place to get some rest? Most people would jump at the chance of getting out of lessons for the day."

The question itself caught the teen off-guard but, in truth, Oliver was right. Almost any student would've done what he had suggested, which only made Nina all the more uncomfortable with her reason.

"Because…" she started slowly, "…getting sick usually doesn't stop me from going to class."

He chuckled. "Well I can see that for myself, really. But why?"

She couldn't find the right words to explain it, but she simply just shrugged and mumbled: "Just because."

"Sounds like you're being stubborn."

"I'm not," she countered with a pout.

The unconvinced look that accompanied the smirk on his face only made her cheeks grow warmer for a moment, though she knew it was more because of embarrassment than her cold.

"I go to the infirmary a lot," she began to explain after a bout of silence. For a second, she almost regretted saying her words, thinking that he hadn't a care in the world about what was running through her mind. But even when his attention was on his blue-eyed Siamese cat, playing with it and scratching under its chin affectionately, she noticed that he was quiet. Attentive.

So, she continued. "I usually… help Madame Pomfrey in my free time when I can. But I've never really had to stay in the hospital wing for any other reasons. I've stayed overnight once, because of a mishap during fifth year." She shook her head at the memory and sighed. "But it was strange just being there. You never really think about it when you're there on your own free will for a short period of time—it doesn't really bother you. But when you're there alone, especially at night, it's kinda… scary."

"A Gryffindor being afraid," he mused in interest. "I'm a little surprised."

She glanced his way, almost a little hurt at his teasing. But she saw the good-natured grin tugging at the corners of his lips. And there was no sense of degradation that she had half-expected—the one that even Slytherins have used in their tone of voice and surly dispositions time and time again. Honestly, a part of her thought that it would be rather befitting in such circumstances.

But she realized that Oliver Wood was Oliver Wood—and a Gryffindor at that. Even when he was capable of it, he couldn't possibly harm her any more than she could harm him.

Though, his response didn't stop her from giving him a small playful glare and pointing her wand at him challengingly. "You'll be sporting wings like my little friend here did if you're not nice."

The corners of his lips twitched aloft. "I'm always nice though."

"You are. When you want to be."

"Which is actually quite often, mind you."

She let out another quiet laugh, which only led to another coughing fit muffled quietly into her elbow. Her wand had been placed on back onto the table, long forgotten, and once again the frown that sunk to Oliver's features had replaced his playful grin as he watched her. A deep subconscious impulse caused him to reach over to rub the small of her back with a calm, almost soothing, touch.

"Go see Pomfrey as soon as you can," he tried to coax as she calmed down. "Peace of mind for both of us if you do."

Unwilling to trust her voice at that moment, she only gave a small nod of her head.

The sound of the bell ringing shook whatever thoughts remained in their minds. Nina watched as Oliver stood up from his seat, packing up and putting away all his belongings in his knapsack before realizing that she needed to do the same.

"You sure you're alright there, Nina?"

"You worry too much, Oliver," she said with a weak laugh.

With her own bag in hand and her Transfiguration textbook tuck under her arm, she and Oliver both walked down the aisle to leave the classroom.

"Mr. Wood," a familiar firm, but polite, voice called out behind them. The two teens turned around to see their Head of House take a step towards them with an expectant gleam in her dark emerald eyes. "Can I have a word, Wood?"

"Sure, Professor." He turned to Nina and gave her a stern look as he emphasized his next words specifically: "_Go to Pomfrey later_."

Nina made a face at him and drawled a "Yes, Captain," before turning to leave the classroom. Even as she stepped into the bustling corridors in trek to her next class, the smile playing about her face hadn't completely left.

As the staircase came into view Nina sighed to herself, holding back another tickle in her throat and taking off her black frames to rub her already strained eyes.

_Just one more class,_ she tried to reassure. _One more class. After Charms, I can rest_.

Her focus was too particularly absorbed in her small pep-talk to notice the person falling into step beside her.

"Fey," a cool voice greeted.

Nina glanced over her shoulder and didn't quite bother to hold back her sigh.

"Flint."

"You're looking rather terrible today, if I may add."

"How kind of you to notice," she muttered dryly.

"I've also noticed that you and those Gryffindor Gits have gotten along rather well. It's almost impossible not to with how obnoxious you lot get on such a regular basis."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned into a frown, but she didn't wish to spare him another glance.

Nina knew what he was doing. He had done it countless times before. His insults and sneers were nothing more than baiting techniques, something he used often just to watch a person simply yell and scream and crack and break. He took pleasure in that, apparently—as most Slytherins took an undeniable pleasure in the misery of others; in Gryffindors, especially.

But she couldn't help to notice that this year he has been rather more ruthless than in the past. Much like how he belittled Alex in the beginning of the year at Hogsmeade Station—it had never gotten to such a point before, never in front of her friends. It was almost scary seeing how deep his words were beginning to get under her skin.

"Quite frankly, the only git I see right now is you," she told him.

"Those Weasel twins are as irritating as ever," he continued to say, clearly impassive about her remarks as they stepped onto the staircase. "They're always causing a muck somehow in the classrooms or corridors. A nuisance they are, really. And their skills on the Quidditch pitch are mediocre, at best."

"Fred and George _Weasley _have become good friends of mine. And they're not nearly as aggravating as you're being right now."

"And that Mudblood and your pretty little friend have gotten together. They're probably in it for a good shag more than anything else, though. I bet it won't even last six months."

Nina bit her tongue from muttering a hex and tried to keep her emotions under control. "They aren't like that at all, Flint. Don't assume and insinuate that they are."

"You and your little House Captain are certainly close to following in their footsteps."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not a daft girl, Fey. You heard me."

His words clicked in her head instantly and she felt a look of disbelief shadow her face. As incredulous as she felt, the animosity rising up within her was unmistakable.

"Even _if_ any of that was true, I honestly don't see how it's a concern of yours, Flint. You aren't a friend of mine, I'm not a friend of yours—and quite frankly, I don't care to be. Whatever happens in my life certainly has nothing to do with you." Nina stopped walking and turned to look at him, her cold stare hardening at the very sight of his scowl. "And for your information, there is nothing whatsoever between me and Oliver Wood."

Without so much as a second thought, he grabbed her wrist forcefully and drew her back to him. His face was close to hers and she saw the heated glare in his steeled grey eyes as he glowered down at her and spoke.

"That wasn't what I saw earlier."

She winced at the feeling of his grip tightening on her wrist, grinding her silver bracelet into her skin and almost cutting off the circulation in her hand.

"Let go of me, Flint."

"Not until you answer my question."

They had stopped halfway up the staircase that led to the third floor, halfway there in her usual trek to her Charms class. The flow of students had gradually slowed down by this time, but Nina knew any outbursts or yells would only gain the attention of the others around them. Perhaps the only reason why they went unnoticed thus far was because they were speaking in rather hushed tones. And perhaps it was in part of the fact that it was a Slytherin and Gryffindor bickering amongst one another. Hardly anyone took such spats seriously unless they were in a duel of some form.

In that quick moment of a tense standstill, Nina grew flustered and yanked her wrist roughly from his grasp, disregarding the sudden sting that shot through her arm.

"Leave me alone," she muttered, her eyes turning considerably dull and cold. Her legs moved forward to reach the top of the stairs, though her body stiffened noticeably when she felt him grab a hold of her elbow to keep her in her place.

"Oi. Listen, just because you've suddenly gathered some gall—"

"You two are in the way, you know," a Scottish burr broke in placidly.

Flint loosening his grip and felt the thick material of Nina's robe leave his fingertips as she moved forward. The House Captains locked eyes for that split second they walked past one another, their scowls and glares poignantly strong and the air between them unusually thin. But neither said a word, only an impasse of mutual hatred that neither cared to share in that particular moment. In all honesty, looks alone were enough.

With quiet snort, Flint sent the two Gryffindors a scathing look at their retreating forms and headed down the stairs for his next class. But neither Oliver nor Nina cared enough to look back and catch it.

As they reached the top of the staircase, Oliver gave a soft tug at the back Nina's robes, stopping her just as she turned to head down the hall. She turned to look at him, only to have her cluttered mind cease in properly functioning—much to the point where it kept her transfixed in her place, uncertain of what to say or do.

Oliver was silent all the while, watching her with such intensity that it made her subconsciously flinch. An undecipherable expression had settled about his face, which made the sinking feeling in the pit of Nina's stomach all the more heavy.

"Do you have a problem with Flint?"

"I… It's nothing."

He frowned. "It's a simple question, Nina. Do you have a problem with Marcus Flint or not?"

Hearing the sudden coolness in Oliver's voice caught the girl off-guard. She opened her mouth to utter her simple response but suddenly found her voice unreliable. Instead, she shook her head.

"You don't," he stated more than asked, reaffirming what she wanted to say. When she gave another nod, he narrowed his eyes on her and his brows creased slightly.

Before she could think about finding the words to say, Oliver took a hold of her wrist and held her palm face up. She fought back a grimace at the hot sting brought about by the sudden movement, but the thought was pushed into the back of her mind when she caught sight of her silver bracelet placed in the palm of her hand.

"How did—" her words were soon dashed when she noticed the red welt on her skin peeking out from the end of her sweater. And for a second, she worried if he had seen it as well.

"Get to class. You're gonna be late," was all Oliver said before turning to head up the flight of stairs.

Nina furrowed her brows as she watched him leave, unable to find any words to say or reasons to stop him.

Her gaze fell back onto her hand and she gripped her bracelet tightly. As she pulled back her sleeve, she noticed the deep red markings wrapped around her thin wrist. A small area near the back of her hand began to puff up considerably, and she could only guess that was the working of her bracelet when it had broken loose.

In a matter of seconds, the sound of the bell echoed throughout the halls. And all thoughts and concerns she had created in that quiet moment alone had diminished.

Her body ached and wailed as if it had just gone through Hell and back, her wrist stung by even the most subtlest of movements, her head felt as if it were practically being drilled from the inside out, and she couldn't possibly think straight enough for any type of class that day. Yet her body began to move down the corridors at its sluggish pace, against all reasons her she could barely manage to think of.

She neared the door that lead to her Charms classroom, but the sinking feeling in her stomach hadn't left—not with the memory of that look in his eyes still fresh in her mind. She saw it for herself, she knew what it was. And as much as she tried to tell herself it was nothing, that it hadn't bothered her and that it was just the Pepperup Potion wearing off and mucking about her mind and common sense, she couldn't allow such assurances to sink in.

It was doubt that she saw in those chocolate colored eyes. It was doubt that caused him to frown and stare at her as earnestly as he did. But it wasn't doubt that caused the sudden tightness in her chest, or the sudden lapse of thought that she found herself in for the next few days to come.

It was disappointment. A subtle, but nonetheless deep, look of disappointment meant for her. He was disappointed in her.

And she was almost afraid to know why.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 621/2015_


	5. Chapter 5

**Simple Circumstance**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Forgive and Forget<strong>

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><p>The few days that followed after that Monday morning had turned out to be much different than Nina had expected. And even now, she wondered how it got to the point where neither she nor Oliver said a word to one another for such a period of time.<p>

It wasn't something she thought about at first. Their Potions class that afternoon was spent in silence much due to a test that Professor Snape had distributed. And dinner was fine, in some sense. Of course, they sat across from one another and hardly said a word, much less spared a glance, but it wasn't something she overindulged her thoughts into.

In truth, her ability to properly function was limited that day because of the heavy dose of Pepperup Potion she had taken earlier during lunch. But for that evening she was much too tired and out of touch to make sense of the confliction she felt earlier that day.

That Tuesday morning during DADA was when Nina sensed that thin veil of indifference between them. Other than a small nod in greeting, Oliver hadn't offered anything else her way. His focus was solely on Professor Lupin as he went on with his lesson of the defensive spells used against Inferi and the dark art of Necromancy. And on a regular basis, Nina would've gladly kept her silence and done the same. But it was a small voice in the back of her mind, a small whisper of unsettling thoughts, that seemed to have bothered her so.

For a while, she tried to disregard it. She tried to reason that it was just her mind over-thinking even the smallest of insignificant details. If she ignored it long enough, she almost thought that it would all just ease away, fading into a small corner of her mind that she could forever dismiss.

But it was that Wednesday, during lunch, when Nina realized that it couldn't possibly be ignored if others can see it as well.

"'Afternoon, ladies," Alex greeted jovially as he approached the small group of friends. He kissed Lizzie's cheek as he sat down and wrapped an arm around his waist as he glanced between the three of them. "What are we up to this fine day?"

"Someone's happy," Lizzie mused with a giggle.

"You were as dismal as a Gringott's goblin when you left the Great Hall this morning," Felicia pointed out with a curiously raised brow. "What's happened since then?"

"Well, I finally passed a bloody test in Care of Magical Creatures thanks to this bloke," he grinned as he motioned to the tall brunette standing a pace or two behind him.

Nina lifted her gaze to his direction and watched as he smiled slightly at Alex's words.

"It wasn't that hard, really. You're just a stubborn arse who won't study unless someone makes you."

"Oi. You're rather blunt, aren't you?" Alex mumbled, to which Lizzie chuckled and smacked his arm lightly.

"But very true, you know."

"What—about me or Wood?"

"Both," Lizzie and Fee replied in an instant.

Oliver chuckled and clapped a hand on his mate's shoulder before motioning towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "As enlightening as that was, I need to go."

"Seriously, Wood? We just got here."

He shrugged. "Potions essay I forgot about."

"Funny, Nina hasn't mentioned anything about that," Lizzie voiced, puzzled. "She said there wasn't much going on this much this week in your class. I mean, don't you two share Potions together?"

"We do," Nina added meekly. Oliver flicked his gaze in her direction before focusing on something that had suddenly caught his interest on the table. "But… that essay he's talking about is extra credit."

"Alright then," Alex muttered while looking between his two friends. "I'll see you in Ancient Runes later, Wood."

With a nod in their direction, Oliver turned to head down the aisle. For a second, Nina met his dark brown eyes and she felt the sudden twinge of confliction in her chest—one that she had felt numerous times since the day before. But it was a moment that went as quickly as it came and she turned her focus back onto her Herbology assignment while Oliver left the Great Hall altogether.

It was as if that fleeting moment between the two of them had left a cool layer of stillness upon the remaining group of friends. Lizzie and Alex shot a look between them, which was then shared with Felicia after she eyed Nina discreetly. That one look between the three Gryffindors was all Alex needed to say the words they all shared in mind.

"Did you and Wood have a bit of a row or something, Nina?"

Her eyes lifted from her textbook in an instant. "Pardon?"

"You two have gotten awfully quiet, I've noticed," he began to explain as his arm left Lizzie's waist. He sat properly on the bench and rested his elbows on the dark oak table, leaning forward ever so slightly as he thought aloud. "I share a good amount of time with the both of you, y'know. You two have been on the quiet side since the start of this week. At the same time, if you get what I mean."

"There's… nothing _wrong_ with being quiet, is there?"

"For you two, it's a smidge bit odd," Lizzie pointed out. "From what I can tell, you and Wood have gotten along rather well this year."

Nina smiled weakly. "We're Housemates. We're supposed to get along. And we have three classes together this year, so it's almost hard _not_ to."

"That's kinda why we're asking in the first place," Fee started slowly, as if picking her words with utmost care. "It's almost… weird how you two don't talk during meals or in the common room lately. We've noticed that, you know. In the commons, either you or Wood find a reason to leave—the same during lunch, like what Wood did right now. It's not like you two."

"We're only busy." Nina gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Oliver has Quidditch and his NEWT classes to think about and keep him busy. I have my classes and workload as well. There's nothing wrong with being preoccupied."

The three teens shared another glance between them as Nina went back to her notes. Had she not, she would've seen the incredulous and doubtful gleam in their eyes.

"Being preoccupied doesn't quite explain why you two are avoiding each other," Lizzie voiced aloud.

Nina shook her head. "We aren't avoiding each other."

"You want me to talk to Wood for you then?" Alex asked with a raised brow.

At this, Nina stopped reading. Her mind suddenly came to a blank and in that lapse of silence between her and her friends she honestly wasn't quite sure what to think. When the lunch bell rang moments later, she snapped out of her small daze and caught a glimpse of their furrowed brows and expectant stares. But she could only smile back at them as genuinely as she could before standing up from her seat.

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing," she reassured. She gathered her satchel and textbook in hand and gave them a small wave goodbye. "I'll see you guys at dinner."

Before any of them could say a word in response, she turned and headed down the aisle to leave. She couldn't quite bring herself to look back over her shoulder to see their reactions. But a small part of her already knew.

Her mind recalled the memories of the day before and she felt that sudden tightening in her chest again.

_Why disappointment?_—she found herself thinking.

It could have been anything else in the world that bothered her at that instant—her Herbology assignment, her upcoming Transfiguration test, her project for Ancient Runes—but that small thought had been repeating in her mind over and over and over again.

_Why was he disappointed?_

As much as that thought tormented her, the same response seemed to have trailed behind it just as frequently, just as relentlessly.

_You're afraid to know why_.

**— ~ —**

Alex started to clench and unclench his gloved hands after feeling the cold seep into his limbs. The view of the Quidditch Pitch came into sight and a wave of nostalgia struck him. It had been a while since he actually stepped onto the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch—almost three years, by that time. He stood in the stands stadium, yes, but it was an entirely different feeling standing there on the grounds, looking up with the all too familiar swell of pride in his chest. Though as humbling as those ruminations were, they didn't necessarily serve as the reason for him being there.

His dark blue eyes glanced down at his wristwatch and at 8:30 on the dot he could hear Oliver Wood calling it a day from his position at the goal posts.

Robes of scarlet and gold flickered about in the air for a few moments before they had gradually descended onto the ground. The over-lapse of chatter from the Gryffindor Quidditch team drifted through his ears and he caught sight of the smiles and grins thrown his way as they approached him.

"Alexander Brooks," Fred Weasley greeted with a clap on his shoulder. "Pleasant surprise seeing you here."

"Sorry to say, but you've missed your chance at getting your Chaser position back, mate," George grinned.

"I have no problems competing for it if need be!" Alicia Spinnet yelled over her shoulder as she and Angelina Johnson walked past to reach the girl's locker rooms.

"Don't worry!" he called out after her. He lowered his voice to normal levels as he chuckled along with the twins. "I'm not here to get back onto the team. Wood made sure I was done with it all before I left anyways."

"So what brings you here then?" Katie Bell asked curiously as she appeared behind the teens with her broom in hand. "It's not every day that we get to see you down at the pitch. Especially now. Most people cringe at the thought of coming down here in the mornings now that it's getting cold."

"Sacrifices must be made to fuel a person's curiosity," he sighed theatrically.

"You're an odd one," Katie said with a quiet laugh. She shook her head nonetheless and motioned to the open space of the pitch behind her. "But I guess that meant you needed to talk to our old Cap'n. You know how he is, he's always the last one down."

"'Course he is," Alex muttered. He glanced up and caught sight of Oliver hovering over the goalposts, arms crossed over his chest and his gaze locked onto the pitch as if he were lost in thought. With his fingers to his lips, Alex gave a long, loud whistle and saw Oliver turn his head. "Oi! Get your arse down here!"

"That's one way of getting him," Fred said, rather impressed.

"We should probably learn how to do that," George agreed.

"Merlin, that'll be a headache to listen to then," Katie sighed. She pushed the twins forward and smiled up at the seventh year as she walked past. "We'll see you later Alex."

The sandy-haired blonde grinned and nodded his head before watching them turn the corner to head for the locker rooms. When he heard grass crunching underneath footsteps, he turned around and was face-to-face with Oliver Wood himself.

"Morning, Captain," Alex grinned.

Oliver gave a conspicuous snort. "The only times you call me 'Captain' is when you want something."

"Bullshit," he muttered. "I don't do that all the time."

"Then what are you doing here, Alex?" Oliver asked while eyeing his friend oddly.

"Alright, so I _kinda_ want something," his friend said after a moment of thought, to which Oliver only smirked in reply. Alex ignored this part and continued anyway. "I've got a bit of a bone to pick with you, Wood."

The Gryffindor Captain crossed his arms over his chest and leant against the wooden frame of the passageway behind him, almost entertained at the notion.

"Alright, out with it then."

"Whatever you say has to be the absolute truth, though. No bullshit half-lies, half-truths or what have you. The whole truth or nothing at all."

"Since when did you get so bloody specific?" Oliver grumbled. Alex rose a brow at him, which only made Oliver sigh tiredly. "Bloody hell, fine. What do you want?"

"Did you and Nina Fey have a row or something?"

Any traces of amusement lingering on Oliver's face had now disappeared. His arms remained crossed over his chest, but his jaw was set and Alex could tell he was avoiding eye-contact for a bit.

"Who said we had a row?"

"Are you kidding me? With the way you two are acting around each other, it bloody well seems like you two did. Which, might I add, is like achieving the impossible. How the hell did you manage to get Nina mad at you?"

"But we didn't have a row."

"Then why are you two avoiding each other?"

"We aren't."

Alex gave a snort that time. "Right. And it's rather 'coincidental' that you have a Potions essay or DADA homework you forgot to do whenever Nina walks into a room. And then she 'just so happens' to have an assignment to get to or a professor to see whenever you walk in. Common form of greeting in a land called 'Delusional'."

Oliver furrowed his brows but couldn't quite find anything to refute his friend's words. By and large, it was almost impossible to deny since it was all irritatingly accurate. And from what he could tell, they were all things Alex saw himself, which made it all the more difficult to bend the truth.

Noticing Oliver's silence, Alex only sighed and stuck his hands in his robe pockets. As his back met with the wooden frame of the passageway, facing his friend and standing a few feet apart, he could only shake his head as he stared at him.

"Look, I know you, Oliver. And I know Nina too. Maybe not as well, but more than enough to notice that you two have gotten quiet on us all of sudden. Give me a break already and just tell me what the bloody hell happened."

Oliver chuckled wryly at his friend's attempt to cajole an actual answer out of him. But for the most part, it worked. Rather slow in pace and thought, but it made him finally think of what's been bugging him nonetheless.

It was at that point that Oliver realized that whatever it was that's been bothering him for so long was actually quite difficult to explain. Even he had trouble reasoning it out on his own. But he decided to try after seeing the slightly impatient look on his friend's face. Perhaps saying it aloud instead of pondering about it in his mind was a much better method of sorting it all out.

"We didn't have a sodding row, alright?"

"Fine," Alex shrugged. "Duly noted. Now what happened?"

Oliver exhaled. "_Nothing_. It just got a bit… complicated."

Alex rose his brows. "Well, then. That certainly explains something somehow."

"Dammit Alex, I'm not kidding." The annoyance and frustration that he'd been feeling for the whole week began to show. "It's like a bloody facade. Like fucking hell I know what she really means, but I don't get it. I don't get _her._ I just didn't bother trying after a while…"

"Alright, you're losing me, mate."

Oliver ran a hand through his short brown hair and sighed to himself, gathering the words in his mind for a moment before finally opening his mouth to speak again.

"With Nina, it's like she just… holds back on you. I can talk to her about anything, really, and she can be as open as she wants to be—but there's just some moments where she honestly doesn't _tell_ you anything."

Alex grew quiet for moment, staring off at the grass in the pitch beside them. The Gryffindor Captain stood in his place, feeling quite impatient himself when it looked as if Alex were debating over something. He had almost decided to smack the sandy-haired teen to get his attention when the lad finally moved. He crossed his arms over his chest—much like Oliver did—and stared at him rather earnestly.

"I always thought that I was the only one who felt like that at first, really."

"So you know what I'm talking about?"

"In some sense, yes. She's rather reserved, don't you think? I mean, she can talk to almost anyone just by being herself with her nice pleasantries and all, but she never _opens up _to them."

"Exactly."

"So… how exactly does that explain you avoiding her for the past three days again?"

"'Cause," Oliver started, though it was only a second later when he felt his voice falter. He paused for another second before sighing at the only explanation that came to mind. "I didn't know what to make of her when it first came to me."

"More like you were caught _off_-guard seeing her constantly _on_ guard," Alex added with a faint air of knowing.

Oliver furrowed his brows, not hesitating for a second to show his confusion. But Alex only shook his head.

"Ask yourself this, Wood. How well do you know her?"

"What?"

"Nina Fey. How well do you know her?"

"No more than most, I s'ppose," he mused aloud. "We've never really talked much until this year, really. And that was more through circumstance than anything else. Why?"

"Because it's my point, mate. Unless you _really_ get to know Nina Fey, then you don't really know her at all."

Alex smirked faintly at how Oliver turned his head away from him to hide the disgruntled look on his face. The sandy-haired teen simply pushed himself off the wall behind him and clapped a hand on the Gryffindor Captain's shoulder.

"Some words of wisdom, Oliver—if it bothers you that much, just try and talk to the Nina."

"Are you speaking from experience or speculations?"

"A little bit of both," he shrugged. "You have your reasons for dodging her almost all week. Whether they're right or wrong, I don't know. But avoiding one another sure as hell isn't an answer."

Alex gave his best mate another reassuring pat on his arm and turned to head out of the stadium, leaving Oliver to stand in his place with the same crease of his brows.

"What if she doesn't want to?" he got out after a thought ran through his mind. His dark eyes caught dark blue orbs across the way and he quickly added, "To talk, I mean."

"With how _I_ know Nina Fey?" Alex started to say with a faint grin. "I'm sure she will. Like I said, Wood. _Try_."

With another nod in his direction, Alex turned around to head out of the Quidditch pitch. Oliver stood there for a few moments longer, soaking in the words from their conversation and mulling it around in mind. After what felt like hours lost in his thoughts, he grabbed his Cleansweep and sighed to himself, muttering things along the lines of 'dammit' and 'cheeky bastard' under his breath all the while.

Apparently, Alex got what he wanted out their chat after all.

**— ~ —**

Friday morning proved to be no different from the days before. Professor McGonagall's class was rendered silent during their test of cross-species transfigurations, but the same process of greeting had been repeated for the two Gryffindors: no smiles, no words, just a nod of acknowledgement and focus turned elsewhere.

A small part of Nina almost got used to the lack of communication between her and Oliver. Almost as if she had gotten used to the idea of never going beyond that means of nonchalance with him from that point on. There wasn't a reason for it to, so why should it? They were only Housemates, after all. Hardly acquaintances, if anything.

But as she sat there next to him, taking her test with her mind roaming about and excruciatingly unfocused, there was that familiar tug in her chest. And for the umpteenth time that week, she found herself honestly wanting to say something—anything, really—but her voice failed her each time her mind drew to a blank.

When lunch came around, she wasn't quite in the mood to have anything to eat. Even when one of her favorite foods was laid out on a plate in front of her, she didn't give it a second glance.

"You sure you don't want anything to eat, Nina?" Felicia asked as the ebony-haired teen stood up from the wooden bench.

"No, I'm alright. I'm not all that hungry anyway." She gathered her bag and stood up from her seat. "I'll be in the library if you guys need me."

"Alright then," Alex said with a nod. "See you later."

She smiled and readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "See you at dinner."

With another wave in parting, she turned to leave the Great Hall. Lizzie watched until she disappeared out of her line of sight before turning back to her sandwich. But a thought drifted through her mind and she turned to her boyfriend in an instant, giving a sharp jab to his arm.

_"You._ Didn't you say Wood left for the library before we got here?"

"Did he?" Alex asked with feigned innocence. He shrugged and continued to munch on his plate of chips. "Hm… I guess I forgot to mention that to Nina."

"You cheeky bloke," Felicia grinned.

**— ~ —**

With her bag in hand, Nina walked down the aisle to the table she usually occupied—one nestled across a window overlooking the Black Lake, between the Transfiguration and Charms section. It was one of the more quieter areas of the library, and she liked looking out the window when she needed a break. It was almost odd if she were to sit anywhere else.

As she turned the corner to reach her usual table, her footsteps gradually slowed down to a halt and a part of her wanted to turn back around and walk the other way. In fact, she meant to for a split second. The brim of her knuckles turned white from the subconsciously tight grip on the strap of her bag and she took a step back, only to freeze up in a moment of afterthought. For whatever reason, she stayed where she was with her brows furrowed ever so slightly and a sudden knot in the pit of her stomach.

She watched as he twirled his black fountain pen between his fingers again, using the same effortless flow and twitch she could never seem to mimic. He had been focusing on something—what it was, she couldn't quite make out—but she could tell he had delved deep into concentration from the subtle crease of his brows and slight purse of his lips.

It took her all the encouraging words she could think of to convince her own body to move down the aisle. Her hands wrung together nervously as she bit her lower lip, thinking of the words she wished to say. But the fact that she had decided to move at all was a considerable feat on its own.

Oliver noticed the movement from the corner of his eye but he didn't quite pay much attention until he could sense someone beside him. The sound of a familiar bracelet jingling softly and the subtle sweet scent that tickled his nose were hard to miss, and by that alone he needn't a guess as to who it was.

"Hi," she greeted with weak smile.

He glanced up at her and offered a small smile of his own before going back to his homework. "Hey."

She grew quiet for a bit, mentally contemplating, before finally starting the exchange of actual words and sentences for the first time that week.

"Can we just… talk for a minute?"

His dark eyes landed on her once more, watching her with the same intensity that made her flinch the last time she saw it. But she held his gaze with a sudden steadfast stare—one that even Oliver noticed—and felt determination settling alongside her nerves.

After a quiet moment, Oliver gave a curt nod and stood up from his seat.

"Come with me then," was all he said before walking towards the Transfiguration section beside their table.

Confusion settled about Nina's features, but she glanced in the direction Oliver left in and watched as Madam Pince began to walk towards their table, checking on students doing their homework and glancing at those looking for books in the aisles all the while.

Nina made sure she wasn't seen by the librarian's wary brown eyes and followed after their House Captain. She caught sight of him skimming through one of the bookshelves with a flicker of disinterest and slowly made way towards him. He glanced over his shoulder to look at her and sighed.

"Something on your mind, Miss Fey?"

"About this whole week…" She fiddled with the silver bell on her bracelet. "I don't… I mean, I can't really—"

Oliver took a random book from the shelves—_Metamorphoses and Transmutes_—as he saw Madam Pince appear from the corner of his eye. Nina went quiet and waited until the librarian passed before finally finding her words: "I don't understand."

"And that's because of me."

"In some parts, yes. But it's partially my fault too, I think."

"I s'ppose this is where we both take fault then," he muttered.

She nodded once more and allowed the nagging thought in the back of her head to finally be heard. "On Monday, after what happened on the staircase with Flint, you asked me if I had a problem with him. Why exactly… did you ask?"

He continued to flick through the pages in his hands. "I couldn't bloody well ignore the fact that the git grabbed you, could I? You may be a Gryffindor and Flint's sodding Slytherin, but I don't really give two shits how House rivalry plays in all that. No guy has the right to grab another lass like he did." He paused for a moment and frowned. "Why? That was actually _okay_ with you?"

"No—not at all. I-I was just… trying to make my point." He stared at her carefully with those dark brown eyes of his, which made her shift uncomfortably in her place. "Because when you asked that, I said no. But you didn't believe me, did you?"

"Not for a second."

"And you were disappointed."

"I was."

"Why?"

"Because you lied." He frowned. "Or rather, you didn't tell me the truth."

They stayed in that silence for a few moments, almost as if they were observing and analyzing something that was unfathomable and beyond what either was willing to show. Nina felt the all too familiar tug in her chest, but the confusion that overtook her was much prominent.

Oliver was contemplating, but he found those thoughts of his to be a bit redundant. It was almost the same explanation he had told Alex. But having the lass in front of him, looking up at him with those deep brown eyes of hers, he suddenly found it much less complicated than he first imagined.

At this thought, though, Oliver only sighed as he placed the book he had been leafing through back in its rightful place.

"Do me a favor, Nina."

His words caught her off-guard. "What?"

"Just _say_ if something's wrong. To anyone. It doesn't even have to be me. But just say it. Don't lie or hold back on people like you did before."

"That wasn't my intention, though," she voiced instantly, surprising both herself and Oliver. "Lying wasn't my intention. It's just that… when you asked, I didn't want to create a fuss over something so… petty."

"You had the flu that morning. And on top of that, that little run-in with Flint that could've ended uglier than it had. That isn't exactly grounds for pettiness. Worry, maybe. But with damn good reason."

"But I didn't want _you_ to worry. Because…" her words faded as she caught the look on Oliver's face—one caught between disbelief and confusion.

"Because why?"

"Because I… didn't think you'd care."

Soaking in those words, Oliver soon furrowed his brows at the girl and shook his head. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

"I'm not stubborn," she muttered. "I just think there's some things people are better off not knowing. However meaningless or insignificant they may or may not be."

"What, and you don't trust me enough to tell me these insignificances?" he added in a half-hearted, jested manner.

_Trust_.

She never realized how heavy that word could be until it was uttered from his lips. Her heart wrenched at the frightening possibility. She _could_ trust Oliver but there was something that held her back—something that had grown as a subconscious misdemeanor on her part. Yet it was nearly impossible for her to clearly justify. It was selfish, she knew. But it was nonetheless difficult.

Her expression was calm, collected as she tried to make sense of the sudden mess she had created in her mind, but anyone who truly knew her would've seen the flicker of torment in her dark brown eyes. The silence, though, was more than enough for Oliver to realize he'd struck something much beyond him at that moment. He was no longer miffed about such strangeness; a small part of him had expected it. But Alex's words from earlier that week were running through his mind and he couldn't help but shake his head once more.

_Unless you _really_ get to know Nina Fey, then you don't really know her at all._

Merlin, Alexander Brooks had no idea how irritatingly accurate he could be.

"I know we aren't the closest of friends, but that doesn't mean you can't come to me for help, y'know," he started to say, his voice's earnest tone never wavering. "It's what I do as I friend. I _can _help. But only if you let me."

Nina heard his words—as true as they've always been—but it took all that time to let the simple fact sink into her mind and whole-heartedly accept because, in all honesty, Oliver Wood wasn't someone she expected to really know at all.

Seven years of attending the same school, and it wasn't until _that_ particular year that they actually shared classes, actually _spoke_ to one another. It was a bit surreal; like it shouldn't even be considered a possibility in her life. They were two completely different people, with two completely different lives; how could it have ever crossed her mind as a possibility?

Yet after all that time, it felt oddly acceptable in a way; almost as if it suddenly made the most sense out of everything else in the world. If anything, though, it made her all the more sheepish with her behavior that whole week. All of it was blown out of proportion and partially through her lack of understanding and true insight no less.

"You still with me, lass?"

With a weak smile and curt nod of her head, she turned her gaze the silver chain-linked bracelet she had been fiddling with since they spoke. As she contemplated to herself, she finally realized something she had overlooked when it came to Oliver.

_You were afraid of him._

She closed her eyes at the thought and chose her next words carefully.

"The bracelet you picked up. The one you gave me before you left on Monday. It's my mum's." She noticed the confused look on his face and took advantage of that moment of silence it had left him in. "My dad—my _real_ dad, he gave it to her before I was born. It was the first thing he ever gave her, and she never took it off for years, not even once. But she gave to me the night before I came to Hogwarts 'cause it's one of the only things we have that reminds us of him. It meant a whole lot to her, this bracelet. It still does, really, so the fact that she gave it me at all means a whole lot to me as well."

"Your real dad…?" he trailed off uncertainly.

"He passed away when I was two," she explained with a sad smile.

Oliver felt his brows furrow instantly and he averted his gaze to the wide array of books before them. "Sorry to hear that."

Nina shook her head and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. The next time her eyes shifted in his direction, she smiled faintly. "I've never told anyone about that. About the bracelet, I mean. Not even Fee or Lizzie. Actually, I don't think they know I have a bracelet like this at all."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"To help explain why I wanted to thank you. Because if it weren't for you, then I would've most likely had a mental breakdown if I couldn't find it—and Merlin knows that I don't need one of those right now. So… thank you. And… I figured that you deserve that much honesty after all that's happened."

Silence fell between the two, but the thin layer of apprehension and strain between seemed to have slowly deteriorated. Oliver noticed this himself, which made him actually muster up an imperceptible smile after hearing her words.

"You're different, lass. I'll give you that."

"And different is… good?"

"In your case, I reckon it is. Makes for an interesting friendship, I think," he smirked, to which she smiled back faintly as she leant against the bookshelf beside him.

_Trust him._

Such a simple thought was suddenly terrifying, but, at the same time, exhilarating. Nina heaved a heavy sigh and finally felt like she could breathe, finally free of the tightness that had built up in her chest despite the ache she felt.

"But I'm sorry if I made things awkward," she got out quietly. "I mean, with what's happened this week and all. I really should've said something much earlier."

"Well I wasn't any better, lass." Realization struck him and he glanced down at her once more, "I'm… sorry about all that as well. I don't know how it got as far as it has, but this whole thing—whatever the bloody hell it is—it wasn't my intention."

She shook her head instantly and smiled up at him. "Forgive and forget."

He chuckled at the notion but nonetheless nodded his head.

To his surprise, she stuck her hand out for him to take and eyed him rather earnestly. "We'll put this all behind us then?"

The grin that emerged on his face was hard to contain, but he took her hand into his and gave it a small shake. He was conscious not to grip her hand too roughly (they weren't on the Quidditch pitch, after all) but he was also conscious of the fact that her hand was surprisingly warm and feminine—a soft, almost delicate touch that was much different from his rough, calloused hands that have seen almost all forms of injury during his years as Keeper. He thought it was a rather unusual feeling, having her hand in his—unusual, yet oddly satisfying.

"It's already been forgotten," he reassured. She smiled and slid her hand out of his. He tried to make light of the situation as he added jokingly: "It's best we start things off on the right foot though. Having our meddlesome friends thinking that we're having a row of sorts is starting to be a pain in the arse, I'll admit."

"They brought that up to you as well?"

"Alex did," he sighed. "Fee and the twins pointed it out during dinner last night as well, but I couldn't really be bother to listen to them that much."

"I suppose we should thank them though. If they hadn't brought it up and bothered me about it in the first place, we probably would've gone through the rest of the year without saying a word to each other."

"True. I reckon we might as well get along since our best mates are going out with each other."

"You say that as if we haven't gotten along already."

He glanced down at her and caught sight of the small smile on her face, which only made him grin in return.

"You two," a voice added sharply from behind them. To their surprise—and dismay—the raven-haired librarian stood there, eyeing them with a steeled look in her dark brown eyes. "Please take note that the library is a place for homework and studying. Both of you have been talking non-stop since I've started my rounds and I will not have your unnecessary chitchatting disturb any person in my library."

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Nina got out with a matching apologetic smile. Oliver wasn't necessarily _as_ sorry—something he honestly tried to hide—but he remained quiet during the small scolding nonetheless.

Pince's dark eyes glanced between them with that stern glare she was renowned for. "Now, if you two are here for neither homework nor studying, then I will politely ask you to leave."

Nina glanced up at the Gryffindor Captain and watched as he tried to hide his grin by turning his head and coughing quietly into his fist. She bit her lip to stop the smile breaking through across her features and could only manage to nod her head at the older witch's words.

"We'll be on our way then, Madame Pince," Oliver reassured. He placed a hand on the small of Nina's back to usher them in the opposite end of the row. Once he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the Hogwarts librarian wasn't following them, he finally let the quiet laugh escape from the back of his throat.

"That was the first time I've ever gotten scolded by Madam Pince…" Nina muttered, almost in disbelief.

"I could tell," he chuckled as he got his knapsack and textbook in hand from the table. "The look on Pince's face pretty much spoke for itself. I could've sworn I saw a hint of betrayal in that look of hers she was giving us."

"I _never_ get scolded by Madam Pince," she went on, this time with her disbelief more pronounced.

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

She glanced up at him at hearing that all-too-familiar phrase and wound up smacking his arm lightly. "I think you're starting to rub off on me, Mr. Wood."

"It'll be an interesting year if that's the case. Once you get into a scuffle or duel with Marcus Flint somehow _then_ I'll be swelling up in pride at how you're following my footsteps."

"I'm sure _everyone_ would be looking forward to that then," she laughed.

"Absolutely," he smirked.

The bell rang once they stepped out into the corridors and they soon found themselves a short distance away from each other—Nina going upstairs for the Gryffindor Tower and Oliver going downstairs for Muggle Studies.

She turned around after the sudden realization and smiled at the sight of him turning to meet her gaze as well.

"Save you a seat in Potions?"

It was a rather silly question, really. They always sat next to each other, even when they hadn't spoken to one another throughout the week. But it was an odd sense of reassurance having to ask that question—almost as if to reaffirm that everything between them really was settled and pushed aside from that moment on. Oliver caught onto this himself after a second of standing there with a puzzled look on his face. But he soon felt a smile in response toying about the corners of his lips and he gave a curt nod.

"'Course."

With another wave in parting, Nina turned around to continue on her way while Oliver did likewise, both donning similar lighthearted smiles brought about by a feeling of natural contentment.

Surprisingly enough, for the first time that week the two teens were actually looking forward to Professor Snape's class.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 621/2015_


	6. Chapter 6

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 – The (Un)Eventful Hogsmeade Trip<strong>

* * *

><p>The smells of fresh straw and half-eaten mice were most pungent as Nina stepped into the owls' home away from home. Yet as she stood in the middle of the ground floor, she found it rather nostalgic having to be there after months of absence.<p>

Various breeds of owls watched the newcomer. Their screeches and cries overlapped and collided, creating a thin layer of noise that was impossible to dismiss but most easy to ignore. In the alcove ahead of her she saw Alfie, Lizzie's tawny-colored barn owl, with the small gold band around its leg being the tell-tale sign of a Bennet owl. Perched on one of the beams overhead she found Artemis, Felicia's dark brown spectacled owl—but she found it odd that she was resting there alone. Rufus and Artemis got along rather well and were hardly without one another's company in the owlery.

With her lips puckered together, Nina gave a long whistle, almost a tune, which she knew Rufus would always respond to. After a few moments of silent wonder, she heard the loud flap of wings and a sudden recognizable screech from behind her. She turned around and smiled at her owl as he perched on the windowsill.

"Hey Rufus," she greeted as she reached to stroke his dark feathers.

She took notice of the letters on the floor and reached down to pick them up. Rufus gave a quiet trill as she skimmed over the names on the envelope, only to have a glimmer of worry deep in her eyes as she stared back at him.

"You've already went to the States?" she asked him, as if he expecting him to say something in response.

He was a bird, of course. He didn't necessarily say anything. But he nipped at the ends of her cardigan affectionately, as if he had understood her words and was trying to ease her scolding back acting as loveable as a chick. But, in truth, Nina was more concerned about her owl than angry.

"You crazy old bird," she sighed, gently scratching the back of his head. As she stared at the letter in her hand, the sigh that drew past her lips came naturally. "You must be tired from your travels, Roo. I'll have you go to Dearest Friend tom—"

The sudden screech and strong flap of his wings startled her out of her train of thought. Another shriek left his small throat and she cringed.

"Alright! Alright already, you crazy bird," she laughed.

Rufus gave another flap of his brown wings and stared at her for a moment before staring at the letter in her hand. There was an air of restlessness about him and she rose her brows when she followed the gaze of his round yellow eyes. She took the hint already. He was hardly ever antsy or impatient, which only proved her previous assumptions wrong. To her surprise, he wasn't tired at all.

"Can you take this to Dearest Friend, then?"

Rufus took the letter into his beak with ease and gave another flap of his wings before ascending into the air. Nina leant against the windowsill—a more cleaner part of it, at least—and reread her name etched in the handwritings she'd recognized all too well.

_Dear Nina,_

_I'm sorry for sending you this letter so late! School has really been a pain in the butt recently. You know how it is, don't you? It IS our last year of school, after all. Our last year of high school! Well—for us, it's high school. I dunno what they're calling it at Hogwarts, but you know what I mean! We're GRADUATING this year—can you believe it?_

_God, the school year is going by so quickly…_

_To be honest, I've been thinking about things for a while. Ever since we last talked when you were here, I mean. In all seriousness, I'm agreeing with what you said wholeheartedly. I'm going to do whatever makes me happy, not what makes others happy. 'Cuz you're right! I shouldn't let someone else determine my own personal happiness—that's for me to decide. Dad might be angry that I'm not going with that internship with the US Ministry he's been pushing on me, but like you said—that's a risk I'll have to take. I've been seriously considering teaching for the past year, but we'll see how everything pans out. You're still thinking about become a Healer, aren't you? Maybe you should consider coming back to the States to study, eh?_

_As for Cam's plans after graduation, I'm pretty sure he's still adamant about the whole Quidditch thing. Ever since you said he might actually stand a chance against Harry Potter, he's been practicing whenever he can in his free time. To be honest, it's sad to see him so dedicated to a sport no one around here is interested in. Thanks to Cam, I'm a bigger fan of Quidditch than Quodpot. But I can't really say the same for the rest of the student body at PIML._

_"It's an acquired taste," as Cameron likes to put it. I have to give him credit for being as dedicated and hard-working as he is though. Do you think he'll give your Gryffindor Captain a run for his money if they ever meet? Hahaha._

_Well, anyways, school stuff is pretty much the same as it's ever been—just a lot more work to prepare for the AP exams. PIML's standards for Seniors are seriously gonna kill me by the end of the year, I'm telling you. Cam isn't taking AP classes at all this year (I know, what a lucky jerk!), so he's even more psyched about our senior year than I am. Being in charge of over 1000 underclassmen is getting to his head. Don't worry though, I'm kicking his butt back into perspective so he isn't TOO unbearable :)_

_I'm writing this during our free period, so I'm sorry if this seems rushed! Cam's bugging me to give him the paper so he could write something down too. I'll write you a longer letter in the next response—promise!_

_Say hello to Felicia and Lizzie for me! :)_

_Much love,  
>Annie<em>

Nina couldn't help but smile as she read the letter one more time. She could almost hear Annie's voice while reading it, just as excited and bubbly as ever. As she turned the paper over to read Cameron's letter, she hid a faint smile. On more than one occasion, Annie had complained about the 'chicken scratch' he passed off as writing. But, for the most part, Nina could read it well enough.

_What's up, Nina?_

_I haven't seen you since we saw you off at the airport. It's been, what—almost 3 months since we last saw each other? It's been a while, kid. We hardly get to see you during the year, so it's nice that the three of us finally got to hang out over the summer. At first, I was worried that you actually forgot who we were when you came back home for the break ;)_

_Anyways, I just wanted to say what's up. I saw Annie writing her letter since second period started, so I kept bugging her until I got my turn. You can't get a letter from her without hearing from me too! And I know you're smiling right now, 'cuz you know it's true._

_Let's see… Well, being Student Body President has been pretty awesome so far. But it's been pretty busy lately. We have a homecoming Quodpot match against Salem coming up, and then there's a dance the next night, so we've been setting everything up for that. I haven't been able to play evil dictator with any of the underclassmen just yet—not that Annie gives me a chance to, anyway…_

_I bet she's mentioned something about that to you in her letter. Yup, she did. Okay, now you know. Annie was worried I couldn't balance Quidditch and Presidential duties but, hey—I'm not doing too badly, if I do say so myself._

_I think that's pretty much it from my end of the spectrum. I'm sure Annie's gonna fill you in with all the more "important" tid-bits. I know you girls care a lot about all that mumbo-jumbo._

_Oh! Before I forget to make sure YOU didn't forget—do you mind giving me the Quidditch League scores so far? You've remembered to keep a list of the wins and losses like I asked before you left, haven't you? I'm being very specific right now because I have a feeling that you've forgotten (Have you, Nina? Haha.) If you can, send me the scores, alright?_

_PLEASE tell me the Ballycastle Bats won their latest game! I'm banking on them out of all the teams this year ;)_

_Okay, well I guess that's it. Annie's giving me a mean look right now 'cuz she's jealous that my letter might be longer than hers. So I'm just writing this part to piss her off even more. Hahahahahahahaha :)_

_Take care of yourself, kid._

_Cameron._

Cameron's letter only made her laugh. For whatever reason, he always loved to push Annie's buttons. And despite her scorn, she loved him anyway.

As her dark eyes scanned over his mention of Quidditch, she did feel a tiny bit guilty. Truth be told, he was right about that part; she really did forget about her promise to keep him posted about the Quidditch League's scores. After neatly folding Annie and Cameron's letter back into its envelope, she made a mental note to herself to ask Oliver about it when she saw him.

The last unopened letter in her hands made her pause for a moment as she read and reread the words written with those unmistakable cursive strokes:

_**Mildred Fey  
>2951 Redwood Circuit<br>Inverness, CA**_

There was a mental debate raging on in her mind as she stared at that name. She had been waiting for her mother's letter since the start of the school year, albeit with a sense of tepid welcome. But after a quiet moment she finally decided to wait until she had free time later to read the letter.

With another sigh drawing past her lips, she glanced down at her wristwatch and saw it was getting close to 8. Her friends would need to get up soon if they wished to get breakfast and make it to the carriages on time. It was going to quite the busy day for Hogsmeade, she could already tell. The first Hogsmeade trips of the year usually were.

— **~ —**

Nina was the last to step out of the carriage, but a hand was offered to her as she was about to plant a foot onto the ground. She glanced up and smiled in thanks at the Weasley twin who helped her.

"Milady," he said with a small theatrical bow.

She laughed. "Why, thank you, George."

"Was that a guess or a confident answer?" he asked in amusement.

As her gaze drifted to his twin walking alongside Felicia, she glanced between the two of them curiously. "A little bit of both, I suppose."

"Well, you've made a very lucky guess then."

"I had a feeling you were George anyway," she started with a small smile. "You're wearing a brown beanie today. Fred's wearing a blue one."

"I reckon it'd be a tough break when we aren't wearing beanies to help distinguish which one of us is which then."

"Hm… true. I could be wrong, but doesn't Fred have a scar on the right side of his jawline?" She pointed it out after checking for herself once more. "You don't have that,"

George showed a look that border-lined between surprise and approval. "You picked that up on your own, have you?"

"Well… I noticed after a while. I'm shorter than the both of you so I have to look up at you two quite often…"

"You _are_ rather short compared to us, aren't you?" he chuckled while ruffling her bangs. She barely made it past his chin, really, so his friendly action only seemed to have made her feel shorter.

"How did he get that scar, if you don't mind me asking?"

He shrugged. "A bit of a scuffle we had when we were younger. I don't remember much about why. We were about four or five when that happened."

"I suppose I only need one guess as to who won that scuffle."

"I suppose so." The grin he had on his face was rather noticeable. "'Cause I'm not the one with the scar."

Nina shook her head at him with the small smile still lingering about her lips. The two soon stood off the side of the path alongside their friends. As the twins said earlier, this was where they were to part in order to meet up with a certain Gryffindor Captain and Chaser.

"So, where's Wood and Katie again?" Lizzie asked while scanning the crowd of students down the street. "They said to meet them here, did they?"

"About that…" George started to say.

"We sorta lied," finished Fred with a sheepish grin.

"Why?" Felicia asked in bewilderment.

"Well—we would've gone with them, but they're on some sort of date right now—"

"—and to intrude on that would be rather rude, no?"

"Besides, with Alicia and Angie staying back in the castle—"

"—we figured we should spend this nice, sunny day with our favorite seventh years."

"And you couldn't tell us that in the beginning?" Nina asked with a soft laugh.

"Well…" Fred drawled. "We wanted to make sure we weren't intruding on you lot as well."

"It'd be rather awkward to tag along and realize that our friends don't exactly want us to be there."

"And we don't face rejection well, you know," Fred added with a feigned sad pout.

"Aww, you two…" Felicia cooed.

In that instant, the four teens looked at the only couple in the group. Lizzie rose her brows at their sudden staring, and Alex seemed to have shared the same reaction as her from his exclamation of: "Why are you guys looking at us like that?"

"Can they come with us?" Nina asked with a faint air of hope.

"Yeah, can they? We'll promise to look after them! And they won't bother you at all," Fee reassured.

"Why the bloody hell did that sound like you two were asking us if you can keep a puppy you found?" Alex asked with a wry laugh.

As if on cue, the twins gave another pout and drew forth an innocent—or _close_ to innocent—look on their face. But Alex only turned away from them to shake his head and fight off the sudden smirk creeping about his face, muttering 'cheeky bastards' under his breath all the while. Lizzie stifled her laugh and simply patted his arm gently before turning to her friends with a mock glare.

"You're in charge of them then."

"I feel bloody old," Alex muttered while he started down the street with a giggling Lizzie beside him.

"But you're _my_ old chap," she said with affectionate peck on his cheek.

"Mission accomplished!" George exclaimed.

Fred threw his arms over the two girls' shoulders and grinned. "We're officially here to bug you girls for the day."

"We can't wait," Nina laughed.

"But you two are behaving yourselves today," Felicia warned while wagging a finger at them. "No pranks or tricky little spells or charms up your sleeves."

The twins shared a look—along with a faint sort of smirk—before replying in a fashion that only twins can master: "No guarantees."

— **~ —**

Oliver and Katie had stepped onto the busy street in Hogsmeade, ready to start their day. But it was Katie who soon slowed her pace, smiling as she patted Oliver's arm to get his attention.

"There's Fred and George. They're with Nina and Felicia," she added when he struggled to see the twins, which was a bit odd considering their red hair was almost always a give-away whenever they were in a crowd.

But he soon caught the backside of a familiar small frame and watched as she and Fee chatted away with the twins before disappearing at a corner. A small smile played across his lips and he glanced down at the girl beside him.

"Looks like they'll keep the twins company for the day."

"Do you wish you could've gone with them instead of having to go dress shopping?" she asked with a grin.

He glanced in the direction they left in and gave a small shrug of his shoulders after a moment of thought. "It's no big deal. And this whole shopping thing is only for a day. It's not like it'll kill me."

"We'll see about that," Katie smirked as she tugged his arm to the nearest shop.

In truth, shopping with Katie Bell didn't _kill_ Oliver—perhaps that was a bit of the wrong choice of words, as he reflects back on it. But it most certainly tested his patience. And although Quidditch has tested and broadened many skills of Oliver Wood's, patience was by far _not_ at the top of that list.

After about four different dress and clothing shops in only a few hours, Katie was still unsatisfied with the selection she had seen. Oliver was rather considerate and, to some degree, actually helpful in the dress elimination process in the first two shops. Though, this was mostly in the form of simple comments along the lines of 'that looks nice' or 'bloody hell,' which was blunt but nevertheless useful.

It was the third shop when Oliver felt the repetitiveness that made him recall why he loathed shopping altogether. And by the time they had stepped into the fifth shop—the one they were in at that moment—he simply followed the golden rule he had learn all those years ago: smile and nod or shake his head.

Perhaps the only reason he wasn't completely bored to death was because of the constant conversation they had kept between them. He hadn't realized that it had been such a long time since they last caught up with one another's lives. It had only been 6 months and yet there seemed to have been so much that they missed.

"Your cousin—she had her baby then?" Katie asked from inside the changing room.

Oliver nodded and realized that she couldn't possibly see him. "Yeah. A baby girl. Janie and Dean named her Mackenzie, after Dean's grandmother, I think."

"Aww, I like that name. Mackenzie." She stepped out in a simple white satin gown but Oliver shook his head, to which she rolled her eyes and stepped aside to pull back the curtains. "Wait, so what about Janie's brother—James? Didn't he have that girlfriend he was all serious about? Are they engaged yet?"

A slight grimace appeared on Oliver's face that time. "Well… they broke up a while back. It was a bit messy, actually…"

"How messy?" Katie asked cautiously.

"He wanted to commit seriously, and she didn't. By the end of the week, they were throwing jinxes at each other until she basically threw out all his clothes from her flat. He dodged the majority of those jinxes though. Except for that bat bogey one…" He shook his head at the memory and sighed. "But he's all well now. A bit heartbroken, but bouncing back in some form or another."

"Ouch…"

"What about Kristen?" He leant against the wall behind him and stuffed his hands in his pant pockets. "Is she still having that… whatever phase you called it last?"

"The 'I-won't-marry-Phillip-until-I-travel-the-world' phase?" she got out with a wry laugh. This time, she stepped out in a black V-neck that stopped about mid-thigh, which only made him raise a brow. It passed off as a simple 'no' in her mind and she drew back the curtains once more. "From the last letter I got from her, she's in the States. New York, if I'm not mistaken. Having the time of her life, from what I gather. But of course she hasn't written to Mum and Dad yet. They're still bitterly mad about her leaving. And she's still annoyed that they don't 'understand' her. Phillip does, from what she keeps telling me, but Mum and Dad is another thing."

"I can imagine," he muttered. "I'm just a bit surprised that she actually left."

"You know how stubborn she can be though. She isn't gonna relent to anything until she's gotten this out of her system."

"Stubbornness runs in the Bell family apparently."

"Better believe it," she laughed.

A moment of quietness settled between the two. And by the sound of rustling fabric it was obvious that Katie was focusing on the dresses she'd brought in with her. Oliver sighed to himself and another thought came to mind.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

He grinned slightly. "I meant what about _you_. Are you seeing anyone?"

There was another pause on her part, and another subtle rustle of fabric before she pulled back the dark curtains to poke her head out. "Wondering about my love life, aye Ollie?"

"Forgive my cursed curiosity on the subject."

She laughed quietly and ducked back into the changing stall once more. "Well, for your information, I don't have one at the moment."

"Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Really."

The curtains were drawn back once more and she stepped out in a scarlet strapless gown that faintly brushed against the floor. It was actually quite the pretty dress with how it was cinched below her bust and accentuated her slim figure. One look at her and Oliver simply smirked before offering the only words that came to mind after seeing the scarlet red satin and her golden blonde hair.

"Go Gryffindor."

With their purchase finally in hand, they stepped back out into the cool autumn air and joined the bustle of fellow students down the streets of Hogsmeade. The pretty blonde glanced up at her Captain with a curious look playing across her face, voicing the question that crossed the brim of her mind.

"What about you, Ollie? Anyone new in your love life?"

"Not really."

She rose her brows. "You're serious?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?" he countered with his own quirked brow.

"Well… I'm just surprised," she started to say. The thought hanging in the back of her mind was suddenly proven wrong by his sudden acclamation, but she went on anyway. "I mean, you and Nina Fey seemed to have gotten close since the start of the year. I just thought…"

"That there's something between us?" He smiled faintly at the flush he saw in her cheeks. "There isn't, you know. We're just good friends."

"So… there's nothing between you two…?"

"None as far as I know."

"Hm… I see."

They continued on with their walk down the main street of Hogsmeade, not particularly bothered by the silence they'd found themselves in. In truth, both used it as a reprieve of sorts; a short calmness before asking that inevitable question they seemed to have been dancing around since they last spoke of it last year.

But Katie was the first to break that amnesty and waded into those unfamiliar waters. She never was one for beating around the bush.

"Have you ever thought about us? About everything that's happened? Or… what could've been?"

"Sometimes," Oliver replied honestly.

"Do you miss it?"

He stuck his hands in his pant pockets once more and glanced down at the girl beside him when he felt her wrap an arm around his elbow. A small smile appeared across his face as he met her gaze.

"At times, I do. But there's other times where I'm glad that everything's been settled the way that it has."

"_Would _you want to try again?"

Oliver felt the smile on his face falter slightly. The tone in her voice was rather whimsical and, in some vague manner, wistful. He couldn't quite tell if she'd asked that question in all seriousness or not.

But before he could even get a chance to think of a proper response to her question, they both heard an unmistakable voice call out from behind them: "Katie! Wood!"

They shared a look before turning around to face their friends. But that question still hung in the air and spoke volumes beyond what either was willing to admit. It was, for that moment at least, a question that would have to wait another day.

— **~ —**

"Oi! You two," Felicia scolded. When she saw the two teens ahead of them turn around, she groaned and smacked the twins by the arm. "I thought we agreed not to bother them on their date."

"Ah, but we aren't bothering them—"

"—we're simply saying hello."

Fee shook her head at their loophole but nonetheless went along with her friends as they greeted the familiar faces.

"I take it the twins have been giving you girls a hard time today?" Oliver asked with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, they're the worst," Fee got out nonchalantly.

"Hey," the twins pouted.

"They weren't that bad," Nina added with a soft laugh as she reached the group.

"I suppose if Nina's saying that then I'll take her word for it," he remarked with a small grin, to which she smiled and nodded.

As she turned her eyes to Fred, who started to started to ask Katie about something she didn't quite catch, she caught a glimpse of Oliver and couldn't help but think that he looked much nicer in casual clothing than their school uniform. In truth, it was a rather simple choice of clothes he went with: dark khaki jeans, a simple black shirt, a grey cardigan with the sleeves pulled up to the elbows, and a pair of dark trainers.

_He looks very nice today_, she found herself thinking as her gaze went back to the brunette in question. Her eyes flicked over to the burgundy beanie lying atop his head and she smiled to herself. It was rather cute on him.

Though as soon as she thought this to herself, Oliver's chocolate brown eyes met hers and she felt her stomach flip. A painfully obvious blush permeated her pale cheeks but she prayed that he didn't take notice when she turned her gaze elsewhere to hide her embarrassment.

"So, what are you two up to today?" Alex asked with a small smirk. "I mean, we're not interrupting anything, are we?"

"Actually, Ollie here is just helping me do a little dress shopping since Angie and Alicia couldn't make it. We just finished up right now."

"We were gonna head to Sprintwitches just now since we're done. What about you lot?"

"After that last trip to Honeydukes we've pretty much accomplished our goal for the day," Fee grinned, holding up the stripped-blue plastic bag in her hand as proof.

"Sprintwitches doesn't sound like a bad idea, aye Georgie?"

"I've been meaning to pick up the new issue of _Quidditch Daily_ anyways," the twin mused in agreement. "Well, you two don't mind if we tag along, do you?"

"I'm fine with it," Katie shrugged. Oliver glanced her way and saw that she took effort into avoiding his gaze as tactfully as she could. In truth, he expected that much, but he did little to say or do much else otherwise.

"And you guys?" he asked as he turned to the others.

"Actually… I'm sure you won't mind me stealing your best mate to have a few hours to ourselves, Wood," Lizzie grinned while tugging a slightly surprised Alex by his elbow. "It's not often we get to go around Hogsmeade on our own."

"By all means," Oliver added in amusement.

The sandy-haired teen in question simply shrugged. "What can I say, mate?"

"We'll meet you guys by the carriages. Remember—4 o'clock exactly!" Lizzie reminded them.

"Have fun," Nina called out in a sing-song voice.

"Take care of Lizzie for us, Alex!" Fee shouted with a grin.

"I always do!" was his only reply as they watched the pair headed down the street hand-in-hand, smiling ever so brightly at the thought of finally having a moment to themselves.

"They make quite the cute couple, don't they?" Katie remarked with a knowing smile.

"I s'ppose," Oliver chuckled, though he wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment more than he let on. With the small shake of his head, he turned to the ebony-haired teen in front of him. "You girls coming with us, then?"

Though, it was at this point that Fee interjected with the sudden plan she had in mind. With her arms interlocked with her best friend's, she looked up to the Gryffindor Captain and smiled. "I hope you don't mind us taking off as well, Wood. Me and Nina need to have a little bit of a girl's day after all this while."

It surprised Nina, to say the least, hearing her friend pipe in before she could utter a word. But slowly, she nodded her head in agreement. "Looks like you guys will have to go on without us then. We'll meet up with you later at the carriages."

"Alright. If you girls say so."

"Looks like we're tagging along with you two again, Katie dearest," George grinned as he threw an arm over her shoulder.

"It's been quite a long time since we've been Hogsmeade altogether, hasn't it?" Fred added with a grin of his own.

"Oh Merlin. This day got even more interesting," Katie laughed wryly as she headed down the street with the twins in tow.

"We'll see you guys later then," Nina said with a quiet laugh as she turned to join Fee in the opposite direction. But as she gripped the strap of her bag, a thought came to mind and she quickly turned around. "Oh, wait a second—Oliver?"

The Gryffindor Captain turned at the sound of his name and watched curiously as she gave an apologetic look to Felicia before shortening the distance between him and herself.

"Before I forget about it completely—again," she added rather sheepishly, "you keep track of the Quidditch League, don't you? The teams that have won and lost and what the scores were—things like that?"

He eyed her oddly but soon felt a slight tug at the corners of his lips. "I didn't realize you took such a strong interest in Quidditch all of a sudden."

But she smiled in return and shook her head. "Not exactly. I mean, I like Quidditch and all, but it's really for my friend back home in PIML. Cameron asked me to keep him posted about the scores and the wins and losses when I can. I have no idea where I can get any of that information, but I was hoping you could help me with that…?"

"The lad can't check up on the scores himself?"

"Well… Quidditch news is hard to come by around those parts. Quodpot dominates as the popular sport in the States, so not too many others take interest in Quidditch."

"Oh. Quodpot," he crinkled his nose slightly. "No offense lass, but I don't quite get how Americans favor it more over Quidditch. Too brutal for my taste. A lack of teamwork in the plays and everything."

She hid a laugh to herself. "No, I understand. I don't like it too much myself. I prefer watching Quidditch than anything else, but that's a little biased considering the school we go to is one of the biggest Quidditch centres around."

"And the fact that you're basically friends with everyone in the Gryffindor Quidditch team has nothing to do with that bias," he added with a smirk.

"Oh no, nothing to do with it at all," she joked.

"I think you're close to getting left behind there, Cap'n," Felicia commented as she motioned to the fifth years a ways down the street, looking rather impatient and curious indeed.

He glanced over his shoulder in an instant and chuckled. "Right. Well, I'll go over the scores with you later then. There's a lot this friend of yours needs to catch up with if he hasn't heard anything about the Leagues so far."

"Thanks Oliver. I owe you."

"It's no problem."

With her usual small wave in departure, she turned around to rejoin her friend while Oliver simply smiled and turned around to do the same.

"Cameron asked for that favor, did he?" Fee asked as she locked arms with Nina once more.

"Yup. You know how he loves the sport. He usually loves hearing about the Quidditch games whenever I write to him and Annie, so he asked me to keep track of the League scores this year as well."

"How are they doing anyway? Cam and Annie, I mean."

"They're doing really good," Nina smiled in recollection of the letter she read earlier that morning. "I just heard from them recently and they're the same as always."

"I wish we could meet them sometime," Fee pouted. "With how we talk about them so often, it's like we're best friends already."

"One day," Nina laughed. "I'm sure I'll properly introduce you guys one day."

"I certainly hope so," sighed the petite blonde. Her gaze turned to the street before them, lined with shops that they had yet to enter. "Now! What should we do first?"

— **~ —**

"Y'know… it's been a while since you and I have spent time together like this. I mean just you and me hanging out together—having a chat and window-shopping and such. It's usually just the three of us on Hogsmeade trips like this."

"You're right," Nina smiled sheepishly. "We haven't had time to really chat like we used to. I feel like I hardly see you guys this year. I mean, we see each other in our dorms and during meal times and all, but it feels different. Since I don't have classes with either of you it feels like we're missing a big chunk out of our days, you know? But then again, I could be overthinking things again…"

"Not really… In a way, I feel like that too. We've _always_ had at least one class together. Since we don't this year, it feels like I'm missing something…" She turned to her friend with an enthusiastic glint in her green eyes. "Tell me, Nina—what's going on in your life?"

She blinked in surprise but continued to contemplate as she took a bite of her croissant. They had stopped at a corner café after a while of walking and were sitting at one of the small tables of the storefront. Fee sipped her mug of hot chocolate casually, watching her friend as she tried to find the proper recollections.

"Erm… I don't really have anything new. Other than classes and whatnot, my life is pretty much the same as it's always been. Nothing that eventful, I mean."

"Aww, boo," Fee pouted, though Nina could tell she wasn't disheartened about the subject. "There's gotta be something worth mentioning."

"I suppose." After a moment of pensive thought, Nina lifted her gaze to meet her friend's eyes and smiled weakly. "I did get a letter from my mum earlier today."

Felicia sat up from her slightly slouched position and leant forward in her chair, her eyes now curious and her attention honed. "What'd it say?"

"Don't know. I barely got it before we left for Hogsmeade, so I haven't gotten a chance to read it yet."

"Are… you still upset with your mum?" Fee asked carefully.

But Nina shook her head. "No. I don't think I was upset with _her_, really. I think I was more upset with the situation than anything else. But even then, I could never hold a grudge anyway."

Felicia smiled slightly at the notion and nodded in agreement. As she watched her friend fiddle with the bracelet on her wrist, Fee allowed her own thoughts to wander. "So… you haven't talked to your mum or step-dad about becoming a Healer?"

At this, Nina frowned—for various reasons she wasn't quite sure of—and shook her head. "To be honest, after that night it was a bit difficult to talk to either of them about anything."

"_Do_ you want to stay here? In England? Or Scotland? Just… _here_?"

"Of course I do. I love it here. I love everything about it—school, you guys, then the people around us and the whole atmosphere… It's so different from the States. I mean, both are a big part of my life, but… I guess there's still a lot of things I need to think about aside from all that."

"But shouldn't you do whatever makes you happy? Whatever _you_ choose to do, not what others decide for you?"

Nina found her friend's choice of words rather insightful, but slightly ironic as well. She could specifically remember repeating something along the lines of those phrases to Annie months back, and it's rather humorous—albeit in dry humor—to see that it's being said for her own sake as well.

"I know, Fee. And whatever I choose, I know for a fact that it's what _I_ want to do. But I just need to think about it for a while," she smiled slightly and tried to make light of the conversation. "Besides, it's only a few months into the school year. I still have plenty of time to sort everything all out."

"You'll… tell us if you come to a definite answer, won't you?"

The way Felicia's voice suddenly turned from a lighthearted, curious tone to one of quiet vulnerability had reminded Nina of a child, in a way. Like the tone an innocent child would use for reassurances on a matter that was beyond them, something they didn't understand but adults did.

It came as a shock to Nina to see Fee like that. She usually never let things keep her in dismal spirits, and on numerous occasions she was the one who was there to cheer up her friends. Realizing that it would be one of the few times when she could return the favor, Nina smiled and held out her pinky.

"Pinky promise—you'll be the first I tell."

Felicia stared at Nina for a second, simply stunned, before hooking her pinky with Nina's a giving a slight shake.

"Promise," they both said.

They dropped their hands and a moment of silence passed between. Before long, they simultaneously sputtered into laughter at their own silly amusement.

"I haven't made a pinky promise since grade school. But I kinda missed it. There's something to a pinky promise that an Unbreakable Vow doesn't have…"

Nina gave her an amused, but dumbfounded, stare. "I… would hardly compare a pinky promise to an Unbreakable Vow."

"Yes, well, I guess the ultimate gloom of death approaching if you don't do your part has something to do with that…" Fee got out rather lamely.

"On that lovely note," Nina started with a laugh, "talking about my life is rather boring now. How's _your_ life going, Fee?"

"Oh, I dunno. Same old, same old," she sighed. "School is school—we all know OWLs were a nugget of Heaven compared to NEWTs. Mum's doing okay and Dad's Dad. They're excavating somewhere in South America, if I'm not mistaken. But you know how they both get when they're off on their own and working."

At this, Nina let out a small giggle. Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth had always been a bit of an eccentric—but nevertheless still loving—couple in her eyes. She never truly got a chance to chat with them for long, but she's met with them numerous times when they saw Felicia off at King's Cross Station. Despite the fact that they travel the world to study ancient magic lost over time, they make it a point to save a few months out of the year to spend time with their children.

In truth, it was one of the things she always admired about the Wentworths. Even though they were miles apart for months at a time, the fact that they were still a close-knit family remained unaffected.

"How is Nathaniel's internship at the Ministry?"

"It's rather curious that you mention him, Nina," Fee said with a sly smile.

The ebony-haired teen felt the unmistakable flare in her cool cheeks return, though she tried to turn her head to cough in hopes of hiding this little detail. It didn't quite work that well judging by the small laugh that left Felicia's lips.

"I had a crush on him for a few months during 5th year and you're still holding that against me?"

"Well it's a cute sentiment! I always thought that having you two together would be interesting. And if you were to get married, then I would have you as my sister-in-law! Amazing thought, isn't it?"

"Fee…" the girl started, failing horribly at containing her embarrassment. But having the memory of the bright-eyed Wentworth in her mind did not help her in any way whatsoever.

Nathaniel Wentworth was of Gryffindor House as well, though two years older. In reality, Nina never quite took notice to the blonde-haired teen when she was younger. With him being older, they never shared classes and they hardly ever spoke to one another without Fee there to instigate conversation. During the Christmas holidays of her fifth year, however, her vacation was spent in Hogwarts Castle with the Wentworth siblings. Quite frankly, that was the most they spoke to one another thus far. But Nina found Nathaniel awfully kind and charming when she spoke to him. And he still was, in fact, rather handsome and well-liked among others.

The crush that she had formed on the older Gryffindor almost came naturally from the small conversations and run-ins they had in between classes and in the Great Hall. But as most crushes go, it never went beyond those means of admiration and silent yearning. In fact, it was rather short-lived considering he graduated that following June and she no longer saw him on such a regular basis.

Perhaps it was that absence that allowed Nina to finally get over her little crush. Although it did take her a quite a long time to no longer flush scarlet at the mere mention of his name. Fee would poke fun at her for that from time to time. Nothing from a malicious standpoint, of course, but it was interesting to see how miffed her friend got each and every time she mentioned her older brother. A small part of Felicia expected that her friend hadn't completely disregarded the crush she had on Nate, but she never voiced that aloud. It was, after all, just silly musings to herself.

"Okay, okay. Have you got that out of your system now? How's he doing then?"

Felicia giggled and gave a subtle wave of her hand.

"I'm only teasing you. But he sounds like he's doing well. From the last letter he sent me, he sounded a bit excited and restless. Going on and on about some trip to Spain. But that doesn't really surprise me in the slightest. You know he's just counting down the days until he gets to finally go abroad for International Affairs. He always hates staying in one place and doing anything repetitive or boring."

"I wonder where he gets it from."

"The world will never know," Fee laughed.

"What else is going on in your life then?" Nina questioned curiously as she took a sip of her water. "Anything 'worth mentioning,' as you put it?"

A thoughtful 'hmm' could be heard as Fee rested her elbow on the table and tucked a neat fist under her chin. Nina could tell that she grew lost in thought for a second from that distant look she had in her dark green eyes. By this moment, both girls had finished their food and were simply sitting down and passing time. Once the witch came by to pick up their plates and give them the bill, Felicia broke out of her trance and gave a small shrug.

"My life's pretty uneventful as well."

"Well we have the rest of the year to change that," Nina reasoned with a quiet laugh as she placed a couple sickles down to pay for their meal.

"Yeah," Fee agreed with small smile. "That we do."

Though no one else but Felicia realized that was the first time she'd ever kept her thoughts to herself.

_Edited: 6/21/2015_


	7. Chapter 7

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Dearest Nina,<em>

_Forgive me for sending you this letter so late. I would be lying if I were to say that I've simply forgotten. I've been telling myself to write a letter to you every day since you left and I'm writing this letter now after finally finding the words to say._

_But Nina, please know that I love you with all my heart, and that I only have your best interests in mind. You are, after all, my only child—my only daughter. You may not agree with what I wish to say, but as your mother, I'm entitled to giving you my utmost honest opinion. Please understand this when you read what I wish to tell you._

_I realize that you have a wonderful life in Hogwarts and in the wizarding community there. You are in your 7th year, already an accomplished and talented young witch, already a beautiful and loving young woman. And I realize that you've started to establish something for yourself in Britain with something you wholeheartedly wish to follow. Whatever your dreams are, I have no doubts in my mind that you will chase them._

_But Nina, I wish for you to come back to the States and have your future here. There are so many opportunities here that are just as fruitful and rewarding as the opportunities in Britain and you are, without a doubt, a very bright girl. I'm certain that you will have no problems finding a great career and future here._

_My reasons for saying this come simply from my heart – I want you to be safe, Nina. There are just some things in Britain that I want you to have no part in. They are beyond what you or any other student at Hogwarts may know at this moment, and I want to keep you far away from that shadow of doubt. In time, you will come to understand what I speak of, but until then simply know that I want to keep you safe. Having you stay in the States will be part of that. Even now, after all this time, it still makes me ill at ease knowing that you're an ocean away from me and Allen. But when you graduate, I can be rest assured that that will no longer be a problem._

_When we last spoke of this we did not end on the best of terms, and when you read this letter I hope you do not hold anything against me from that day. But I wanted to tell you the truth. I honestly do not want you to stay in Britain any longer than necessary. And when I told you that, I saw the look in your eyes. I am sorry for upsetting you as I did. I didn't realize that you felt so strongly about this._

_But please, Nina—tell me why you want to stay there. Tell me what makes you want to stay in the Britain. You've now heard what I wanted to say, but I've yet to hear from you. Regardless of whatever I may say or think, what you think or feel is above all more important than you realize._

_I do wish to hear from you, so please write back soon. Allen says hello, and we both miss you to bits. I hope everything is well._

_Love you,  
>Mumma<em>

Nina reread the letter with a faint stir of malaise. There was that indecisive tug in her chest again; the one that bothered her every single time her heart was torn between two impossible choices. Of course she wasn't angry with her mother—she loved her mum, and despite the fact that they had a spat, she could never stay upset for long. But the letter had caused Nina to delve deep into thought.

Quite frankly, though, she wasn't quite sure what to think at that point. All her emotions and thoughts on the matter were starting to form into muddled shambles, nearly impervious to any and all formal thoughts of resolution or understanding. The more she tried to linger on her mother's words—the more she tried to make sense of the argument they had—the deeper her confusion and uncertainty ran.

"Such a serious face on you, lass."

She tore her gaze from the letter in front of her and glanced up, smiling weakly in greeting.

"Morning, Oliver."

He offered a faint smile of his own and glanced around the Hall. "Where's Lizzie and Fee? Sleeping in for the day?"

"Well… by this time I believe Felicia is. But I'm not quite sure about Lizzie."

The curious look he gave her didn't go unnoticed and she smiled to herself as she took off her glasses to rub the strain out of her eyes. "Felicia came down with the flu this morning, so we took her to Madame Pomfrey earlier. And Alex wanted to steal Lizzie away for a little bit so they're together somewhere right now."

"I figured that was the case. I saw them walking around the courtyard on my way back from the pitch," he muttered as he sat beside her. "And Felicia's passed out in the hospital wing, I assume?"

Nina laughed quietly. "I think she actually did before we left."

"Doesn't surprise me," he chuckled. "I remember giving her a bit of Pepperup Potion back in fifth year when she was sick. She knocked out before her head touched the pillow."

"So you were the reason why she was impossible to wake up that time," Nina mused with a playful glare. "I remember it because me and Lizzie had to carry her up to the dorms when we found her on the couch after dinner."

"I would've taken her up myself," he rose his hands defensively. "But you know the spell the girls' dorms have. I made sure she was comfortable before I left her alone to sleep though."

Nina smiled and took another bite of her yogurt. "A true Gryffindor gentleman."

"My parents raised me no other way," he grinned. "Oh, which reminds me. Here—"

He put down his piece of toast and brushed off the crumbs from his hands before reaching into his knapsack. After a second of rummaging, he pulled out a piece of parchment and placed it in the open space between their plates for Nina to clearly see. It appeared to be a list of sorts in her eyes, which only made her stare at it in confusion.

"Wha ish it?" she asked after another bite of yogurt, her words slightly muffled from the silver spoon still in her mouth.

"It's the Quidditch scores you were asking for. The ones your friend wanted."

"You remembered?"

"You forgot?"

"No," Nina muttered sheepishly. "It just hasn't… crossed my mind in a while."

Another grin played across Oliver's lips and he went on, unbothered. "I wrote it all down for you anyway. There's a lot he missed, so I reckon having it written down would've been better than explaining it all aloud."

"Oliver… just how much is Cameron missing?" she voiced in vague alarm at the sight of the full page of notes.

At this, though, the Gryffindor Captain simply shrugged and took his last bite of toast. "I told you it was a lot he needed to be caught up with. The season is almost over for the British and Irish League, and he'll probably find the turn out so far a bit interesting. The International League started up not too long ago though. The match between Japan and Scotland coming up is only the second game of the season, so he isn't missing much on that part. But it's more of a friendly match to help practice for the Quidditch Cup next summer than anything else."

Nina scanned the parchment once more after his explanation and felt the corners of her lips curl into a small smile. It was quite the extensive list of matches between the Quidditch teams with their final scores. But it surprised her seeing the detailed comments Oliver made on each match. The best defense for one team, the major downfall for another; an Arnie Foss from the Kenmare Kestrals performing the best damn saves he'd seen in years, a Ronny Gladwyn from the Falmouth Falcons deserving the bloody Bludger to the head for the nasty foul he'd committed. She herself found it rather entertaining and most certainly helpful. Without a doubt, Cameron would share the same opinion.

"I'm kinda impressed, Oliver. I didn't think you would be so serious and put so much effort into all this, but thank you."

"It's Quidditch, lass," he stated in a tone that spoke for itself.

"Which makes you the perfect person to go to with all my Quidditch inquiries. Although… I might as well tell you now that I'm probably going to be asking about these Quidditch scores quite often…"

He shook his head but smiled to himself nonetheless. "You know where to find me then."

"Of course." She thought for a moment and glanced up at him in interest. "Actually, now that you mention it, you're here for breakfast pretty early, Oliver. No Quidditch practice today?"

"I booked the pitch for Monday and Friday this week. Hufflepuff's got everything else." There was a particular edge in his voice as he said this, but he tried to cover this little detail with a hearty bite of his scrambled eggs.

"That makes sense. You guys have your Quidditch game this weekend, don't you?"

One look at the smile emerging on her face and Oliver felt the aggravation he had unleashed on his team the day before slowly ebb away. Quite frankly, he found it difficult to be livid with Nina around, though he never quite comprehended why or how this was so.

But at that point he came to terms with the fact that there was no longer any reason to be worked up over something that wasn't his call. What's done was done, and as much as he would've loved to give the annual dose of Slytherin arse kicking—courtesy of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—it was something that would have to be pushed back farther than he would've liked.

"Yeah. First match of the season's this weekend."

"I always thought Gryffindor/Slytherin matches were more interesting out of the other games throughout the year," Nina commented with a small nod. "But then again, I suppose a game between House rivals is always the best way to kick off the season."

"Except that's gonna have to wait until the end of the year."

"You guys aren't playing Slytherin this weekend?"

He shook his head. "Hufflepuff."

"I guess that's a different change of pace… But aren't we always matched with Slytherin first? Why the sudden switch?"

"'Cause Flint's a slimy bastard and Malfoy's a sniveling puss."

Nina rose her brows at his answer. "Okay. We all kinda know that, but how'd they get mixed into this?"

Oliver smirked slightly at her words, but the sentiment slowly faded as he glanced her way. "Flint managed to snake his way into getting Madame Hooch to switch matches earlier this week. Something about Malfoy's injury preventing him from playing this weekend. But Harry's saying it's bullshit and the fact that it's Flint and his team pulling this stunt makes it that much more obvious that it's all bollocks anyway."

"Malfoy's injury?" she repeated slowly. "You're… talking about that incident with the Hippogriff, right?"

He rose a brow. "From what Harry told me, that's the one."

"What a sniveling puss…" she muttered while stirring her yogurt with a distinct frown.

Oliver didn't even bother to hold back his laugh, which only made Nina pout at him for a bit.

"Really, Oliver—Flint's just using Malfoy's injury to weasel out of playing this weekend. I was there helping Madame Pomfrey when they brought him in, so I saw it for myself. All he had was cut on his forearm, barely a shallow wound. But he acted like he was dying from dragon pox or something. It wasn't that bad at all."

"Then that proves our theory," he chuckled dryly. "But what's done is done—we can't really change Madame Hooch's decision. Even if we did tell her, it'd be our word against theirs. And knowing the Slytherins, they'd still manage weasel out of it somehow."

"I suppose that would be true…"

He shook his head once more and sighed into his words. "The Slytherins cowering out because of bad weather is fucking ridiculous enough, but it's better to just accept it and play against Hufflepuff. Besides, playing Hufflepuff this weekend means that we're against Slytherin at the end of the year. Best games are usually saved for last, aye?"

Nina laughed softly at the notion before slowly nodding her head in agreement. "I guess that's true as well. But this whole thing with the Slytherins is a bit frustrating. And that third year Slytherin, Malfoy…"

It was at this point that something in her memory clicked and her words trailed off significantly. Oliver glanced at her with a raised brow when he heard her words fade.

"What about Malfoy?"

"Third year…" she muttered to herself, straining to remember that irritatingly faint recollection at the very brim of her mind.

"Okay…? You're not really—" his words were cut short when he watched her bop her forehead with the palm of her hand as if she'd suddenly forgotten something—which, essentially, was the case.

"What time is it?"

"Err… 8:35—no, 8:36," he replied with the glance at his wristwatch.

"Dammit. I forgot I agreed to help tutor a group of third years in Professor Sprout's class this morning…"

With another quiet curse under her breath, Nina got up from the wooden bench and placed her untouched DADA textbook back into her bag. She carefully folded her mother's letter back into its envelope and folded the parchment of Cameron's Quidditch notes as well before pocketing both into her robes.

When she turned to say her goodbyes to the Gryffindor Captain beside her, Nina quickly took note of the stunned expression lingering about his features. As she readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she eyed him oddly.

"Why… are you giving me that look?"

He blinked. "You cursed."

"You've never heard me curse before?"

"As bluntly as you did now? Bloody hell no."

"I think you and Alex are really rubbing off on me then," she told him with a quiet laugh.

"I'm starting to wonder if that's a good or bad thing…"

At this she rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder before she walked past him. "Just kick Hufflepuff's arse at Quidditch this weekend, Oliver."

"You're gonna watch the game, then?" he asked with a smirk making way across his face.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she smiled.

"I'll hold it to you."

With a small nod and another wave goodbye in his direction, Oliver watched as she turned to head down the aisle. She was a short distance away when he saw her glance down at her wristwatch and then heard, quite distinctly, a quiet 'oh, fuck' leave her lips before she rushed out of the Great Hall altogether. Oliver shook his head and continued to finish up his breakfast, torn between scolding himself and laughing aloud.

_Bloody hell._

Perhaps he and Alex really were rubbing off on her.

— **~ —**

The day of the Quidditch match drew forth much quicker than anyone had anticipated. Oliver was practically on pins and needles adjusting his team's strategies and plays for the game against Hufflepuff. He was a bit worried about his Chasers; Hufflepuff's Keeper was fairly good and quick in reflexes, but so long as the girls kept to the plays they'd been practicing all week then he knew he needn't to fret. Or rather that was what he kept repeating to himself throughout that week.

The twins weren't much of a concern, really, considering Hufflepuff's Beaters were a slight notch below the Weasley's level of aim and speed. Both Fred and George were, after years of practice on their part, a pair of ambidextrous blokes who could alternate between their swings when needed. And this uncanny ability had undoubtedly saved their teammates from an awful headache or nasty bruise on more than one occasion throughout the years.

Truth be told, Oliver's apprehensions were actually on his Seeker, Harry Potter. Hufflepuff's Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory, was a bloody good player; wicked fast and agile for a bloke of his size—this, Oliver openly admitted. And as the weather turned for the worst by the end of the week, Oliver knew that Diggory's weight would serve as an advantage by leveling him out during the high winds and storm.

With this in mind, the Gryffindor Captain wasted no time giving advice to Harry in between classes and in the Great Hall. Whatever it took, he concluded, they had to win the match. Even if it meant talking to Harry about Diggory's weaknesses and the tricks to out-maneuver the lad throughout the whole break and being 15 minutes late to his next class. As long as Harry understood what he could do, then that was all Oliver cared about.

It was only when Nina brought up a valid point that he slowed down and left Harry to his own contemplations on the match.

"If you or Harry get any detentions this weekend as punishment for being late to all your classes then all that advice might go to waste, you know," she told him the day before the game.

He paused for a bit before saying firmly, "We haven't gotten any detentions yet. And as long as Harry takes my advice to heart, then my job's done and I don't have to worry about it."

She smiled and patted his arm soothingly. "Relax, Oliver. Harry's a really good Seeker. Have a little more faith in him."

And so, Oliver did. Even to the very last minute when they left the Great Hall for the Quidditch pitch. The rain pattered against the glass windows in the halls as if it were nothing but silly child's drums ready to be torn, and the high whistle of angry gales resonated throughout the castle walls.

Despite the nerves that were starting to settle amongst his teammates, Oliver's confidence was neither daunted nor swayed. They had the best team Gryffindor's seen in years—he knew this for damn certain—and he knew what each of his teammates were capable of. To bleedin' hell with the weather, he thought; a storm wasn't going to change the fact they were going to play. And today, especially, they were going to play their damned hardest.

They were going to win.

— **~ —**

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright, Fee?" Nina shouted over the harsh winds and loud cheers of their Housemates.

The petite blonde rolled her eyes playfully. "Nina, I'm fine! Stop worrying about me, you're missing the game!"

With a small smile lingering about her lips, the ebony-haired teen held the hood of her robe in place as she stared up at the blurry figures flying about the pitch. The small voice in the back of her head told her to keep an eye on the recently-recovered Felicia—she had barely gotten over her bout of flu the day before, after all—but for the most part, Fee was in high spirits and apparently as fit as a fiddle.

Nina muttered another impervius charm on her glasses and frowned to herself at seeing that it hadn't helped very much with her line of sight—not with the rain swaying to and fro at the whim of the harsh cold winds and pounding on every spectator and player present.

"We're all missing the game because of this weather," she shouted to her friends.

"But we're winning," Lizzie said with a smile under the hood of her soaked scarlet red robes.

"We're up 40 points," Alex managed to get out beside them. "Hufflepuff hasn't even scored on us yet."

"How's Harry doing?"

Alex pointed upwards to the Hufflepuff's goalposts and motioned to the 3rd year struggling to keep his flight aligned against the strong gales as he flew to the other side of the pitch. "He's getting by, I think. The winds must've knocked the Snitch out of course 'cause I could've sworn he was about to dive in for it earlier. Dammit—WOOD! MOVE YOUR ARSE!"

The girls tore their gaze from their respective sights and watched as one of the Hufflepuff Chasers—they couldn't quite make out who—zoom towards the goalposts with the Quaffle tucked under their arm.

"And Hufflepuff's Malcolm Preece has the Quaffle! C'mon Gryffindor, catch up to bloke! He's wicked fast now and—ooh! Barely dodged a Bludger that time!" Nina could barely hear Lee Jordan's commentary through the awful weather, but her eyes remained fixated on the game before her.

She held her breath when she couldn't find Oliver at his usual place and she could feel Fee clutch onto her arm with the same vigor she used to grasp hers. The Hufflepuff dodged another Bludger headed his way but managed to throw the Quaffle before any of the Gryffindors could intercede.

Before the misshaped ball made it through the hoop, the Gryffindor Keeper flew in from off the side and caught it abruptly, tumbling on his broom for a second before throwing it to one of his Chasers close by.

"NICE save by Captain Oliver Wood! Bloody brilliant streak this bloke's having! The lovely Alicia Spinnet now has the Quaffle and is rocketing toward the goalposts and—watch it, love! Spinnet avoids a collision with Hufflepuff Beater, Anthony Rickett, and she loops to the right. Beautiful maneuver, that one! The Quaffle's thrown and—YES! Spinnet scores 10 points for Gryffindor!"

Cheers erupted throughout the crowds of Gryffindors and fellow spectators, mixing in with the continuous droning of the rain and the sudden lapse of lightning. Nina shared a bout of high-fives and shouts with her friends, laughing quietly to herself when she caught sight of Oliver punching the air in excitement.

The sound of a high-pitched whistle shrilled into the air over the sound of thunder booming overhead and all the Quidditch players flew back to the respective sides. Once they touched onto the ground, the quick time-out had ensued and the crowd around them continued on with their chants and cheers.

"We're not doing too badly for a game in this bloody storm," Alex grinned.

"You doubted them for a bit then?" Lizzie asked with a raised brow.

"Not our team, just the storm. The weather's mucking everyone up right now. Hufflepuff's taking a bit of a beating because of it—and Harry is struggling a smidge bit also."

"They'll win," Nina stated with a nod. "Harry'll win it for Gryffindor."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Alex chuckled, turning his attention to the pitch at the sound of the whistle going off once more.

Nina shifted her gaze between Oliver and Harry throughout the next few minutes of the game. Without a doubt, Oliver was doing his damn best during this match; he hadn't let the Quaffle past him once thus far. Another attempt was made as she thought this and the Quaffle was struck back to the hands of a Gryffindor Chaser with the brunt of his Cleansweep.

A bright smile appeared across Nina's features when she heard the cheers from her friends, and for a quick moment she felt her heart race.

Only at a Quidditch games, she mused to herself. It's almost impossible not to get worked up at a Gryffindor Quidditch match.

Yet she thought this as her eyes remained transfixed on the Gryffindor Keeper with the all-too-familiar tug in her chest. It was only when Oliver called out to get his Seeker's attention when she came back to her senses as well. With a quick scan the dark skies, she caught sight of the 3rd year on his Nimbus 2000.

Her heart jumped when she saw Harry and Cedric Diggory vying for the small glint of gold flickering about ahead of them. A shout tottered on the tip of her tongue when Harry drew close to the Hufflepuff, but that was when she felt it – a swift chill cascading down her back, a sudden tightening in her throat that made it difficult to breathe.

_Stop._

Dementors began to fill the dark skies by the numbers and cries of duress filled her eardrums, only to be rendered to a deafening silence caused by fear, unease, and dread. The air grew thin and unbearable, almost to the point where it made her sick to her stomach.

_You're a liar…_

Nina shut her eyes and grimaced at the sudden memory that flooded the crevices of her mind. Something in her chest ached and the pain pulsed through her veins, almost weakening her to her knees.

_"You've done nothing but lied to us this entire time. Every word you've said to us is nothing but lies on top of lies…"_

_"You don't know a damn thing about what I'm doing or about me. You're here for two months at a time every year—you have no idea."_

Her body shook, but she couldn't make sense over whether it was from that moment of indignation from the past or the sudden rush of fear from the present.

_"How dare you use me—and my mother. And to lie to our faces without a damn care in the world. You're nothing but a sorry excuse for a Muggle—a sorry excuse for aman who's done nothing but taken what's not even rightfully yours—"_

She could feel that sudden sting in her cheek as if it happened only milliseconds ago. She remembered anger welling up inside those hazel eyes and she remembered feeling disbelief swelling up in hers. But she stared at him with something she had never felt before—something that was merciless and brutal and horridly raw that no amount of physical pain could surmount to.

_"You will not say a word of this to your mother. You'll break her heart. And you know that she's here all alone. No other family, no other close friends to turn to. You and I both know that you can't do that to your dear mother, Nina."_

_"I never… trusted you. I knew never to trust you…"_

But what she remembered most of all was that cold, impassive gaze. It was unsettling and twisted and beyond the wickedness she originally expected and continually dismissed. Everything up until that point was nothing but a façade.

_"That's a relief, sweetie. Because I never trusted you either. But after this year, I don't have to worry that much about all that now, do I?"_

Time seemed to have caught up with the ebony-haired teen and she opened her eyes, watching as a small crowd began to form at the center of the pitch. She swallowed the sudden lump that formed in the back of her throat, but the sudden constriction on her vocal chords prevented anything but a hoarse gasp to leave her lips.

There seemed to have been a 'mute' button that God or Merlin had suddenly fiddled with. Silence was the only thing that seemed to have settled upon the crowds of spectators and it was no different for the people around her. It was moments later, when her friends tugged at her sleeve to have her follow them, that she heard the words that caused a surge of numbed disbelief to course through her mind, one that could only add on to the astonishing fact that Harry Potter was still living and breathing after a death-defying fall.

Hufflepuff wins.

— **~ —**

Something compelled Nina to sit outside the Gryffindor locker room, her back against the wall and her knees pulled close to her chest, half her mind in silent musing and the other half aware of the subtle darkness settling upon the lone stadium. Something other than Alex's request for her to 'get something out of Oliver', as he put it, and something much more than just her morbid curiosity. For whatever reason she couldn't quite explain, Nina was there on her own accord.

The storm hadn't let up in the slightest when Nina backtracked to the Quidditch pitch. No one in their right mind would stay out in the open grounds any longer than necessary. Other than the wind and rain thrashing against the walls unabashed, it was only her quiet breathing and the pipes rattling to life in the showers that she heard as she sat there.

In truth, she'd been rather sheepish when she realized that Oliver was still in the shower. An hour or so had already passed since the game ended, and she expected that he would've at least gotten out and was dry by the time she arrived. But that certainly was not the case—it wouldn't be for quite a while.

She checked on him, of course, to make sure he really hadn't 'drowned,' as George mentioned earlier. But after seeing his backside—much thanks to a half-wall that prevented her from seeing anything below his waist; though she's still debating over whether or not this left her disappointed or relieved or a mixture of both—she was put at ease to see that he was fine, to some extent, and opted to stayed out of locker room for her own level of comfort and discretion.

The mere sight of Oliver's back—a very toned and sculpted back, mind you—was enough to make her cheeks flush a tint that matched her House colors for quite a while. But once she stepped back into the halls, she overcame her embarrassment and waited for Oliver to finally step out on his own time as well.

Merlin knows how long it took for this to occur. But even then, Nina wasn't daunted. She was worried, which led her to check on Oliver every other odd moment. But the same process was repeated—peeking in, stepping out, waiting. After a while, Nina slid against the wall behind her and drew her knees close to her chest. He hadn't moved at all from his forlorn position. Every time she checked on him, his head was bent downwards and his fists rested against the tiled wall in front of him, leaving the same helpless feeling to sink into her bones as she sank against the wall.

She thought of the number of hours Oliver must've spent preparing for the match after Slytherin had fallen through. Knowing him, he probably lost a bit of sleep from the short notice it had left them in. And the thought of the Quidditch match itself seeped into her mind but she could only imagine how he felt about the loss.

_Devastated_, she remembered Katie saying. She herself felt slightly off-putted about the situation, but she realized the magnitude of disbelief and numbness they had all felt was much different for Oliver.

How frustrating, she thought to herself.

By the time she had run out of things to ponder upon, she almost missed the Gryffindor Captain altogether. His hair was noticeably damp, but he had dressed into the same dark blue jeans and scarlet hoodie she last saw him in when he and the others left that morning. She didn't even bother getting up from her place as she called out to him in a fairly placid tone:

"Quite the match earlier."

Oliver was a short distance away from her when he turned around with confusion clearly etched into his brows. Once he caught sight of the ebony-haired teen, he stared at her for a long while, not really thinking about why she was there or for how long. He was much too tired and irate to think of this, or to even care, really.

With the strap of his knapsack tight in his grasp, he turned around and continued to head down the stadium halls. Nina expected this much.

"You played a great game today though," she started to say. "It was the storm that was awful. Hufflepuff probably wouldn't have stood a chance if it were any other day."

At the mere recollection of the Hufflepuff match—the very thing he'd been trying to push into a dark corner in the back of his mind for the last half hour—Oliver silently scowled to himself and turned to face Nina once more. She noticed the look upon his face and chose her next words carefully.

"Harry tried his best, Oliver. You all did." When he remained silent, she tried again. "And it was a good match. That's all you could ask for, isn't it?"

He felt the muscles in his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth. Quite frankly, he didn't want to indulge into these contemplations any more than he already had. It was obvious that the lass was persistent that moment, but he dismissed the stubbornness that was beginning to surface in her as he made another attempt to leave.

"Oliver Wood, get your arse back here."

The momentum in his legs fell short again and he turned to glance back at the ebony-haired teen with furrowed brows. She stared at him with a sort of stoic look in her eyes and after a while in that silence—where neither of them flinched nor shifted their gaze—she motioned to the space beside her. He thought against it for a split second, and it seemed as though she noticed because he soon saw a frown emerge across her features.

An ungentlemanly curse about that stubbornness crossed his mind—_where the bloody hell did it come from all of a sudden anyways?—_as he begrudgingly walked towards the girl. Knowing Nina Fey, he wouldn't hear the end of it if he hadn't and, quite frankly, that was a headache he wanted to avoid for both of them.

Their shoulders were touching when he sat in the empty space beside her. The heat that radiated from his body was rather comforting at that moment, though Nina reasoned any form of warmth was a welcoming sensation after sitting in the storm's cold air for the last few hours.

"Alex has really rubbed off on you lately, hasn't he?" she heard him mutter.

But at this, though, she smiled warmly. "Got you to say 10 words to me that time."

"An incredible feat."

"Considering the circumstance at the moment, it is."

Oliver grew quiet again and Nina nudged his shoulder softly. He glanced her way and noticed the small smile playing across her lips, but it soon faded when she realized that it hadn't roused him from his quiet disposition. After a moment of calm stillness, she sighed to herself and stretched out her legs in front of her, relishing the relief that rushed through her veins and muscles.

"Diggory offered a rematch," he got out after a while. She turned her head to look at him and remained quiet, waiting for him to go on. "I turned the offer down," he muttered just as dully.

"I see," she got out quietly. "And you think it's a mistake now?"

He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair in defeat. "What the sodding hell am I supposed to think? I could've agreed to the rematch—I had the perfect means to because of Harry. But it was fair game—it was a fair fucking game, so how could I agree to do another match?"

"Then why are you still beating yourself up over it, Oliver?"

"I don't bloody know," he countered in vexation, running his hands over his face. But the harshness in his own voice was enough to make him grimace. He sighed tiredly, this time lowering his tone into a soft murmur. "I don't know, Nina."

He felt her hand rub his arm soothingly and his dark brown eyes met hers. _As long as it's Nina_, he concluded at that moment. As long as one person knew what was running through his mind, then he didn't give a damn.

"Do you think I made a mistake?" he asked her quietly. "Do you think I should've accepted the rematch?"

She smiled weakly at him. "Do you blame Harry for the game?"

He frowned and mulled about his response for a moment. Honestly, he had been asking himself that ever since the match ended. But in the end he came to his honest answer and shook his head.

"Do you blame yourself?"

Again, he shook his head.

"Do you blame anyone?"

"I blame circumstance," he muttered. "But in a Quidditch match, it's irrelevant. You can't change circumstance."

"Then you just answered your question for me, Oliver." She gave another reassuring squeeze to his arm, "You can't change anything—not the storm, not the Slytherin switch-up, not the Hufflepuff match, or anything of the sort. No matter who you are, you can't change what's been done."

"I could've changed the scores by accepting Diggory's rematch."

She shook her head at him. "But I'm proud of you for not doing it. You turned it down for all the right reasons, Oliver—you said so yourself. It was a fair game under all the circumstances and conditions. It would've been unfair if you accepted his offer at all. You know that, that's why you turned it down."

Oliver sighed wearily and ran another hand through his short brown hair. Constantly replaying the match in his mind over and over—recalling those moments where he thought could've _done_ something—caused him to be bloody tired, irritated to hell, and had him border-line between self-resentment and devastation. Regardless of the reassurances and whatever words they said to each other at that moment, nothing would change that for a while—this, he knew.

"You're second-guessing yourself," she stated simply after a bout of silence.

"Within reason."

"Don't though." He eyed her oddly, to which she continued, "At least… not when it comes to Quidditch. For someone who can get really riled up about the sport, you're also the most level-headed and fairest that I've ever seen you. Never second-guess or doubt that."

He pursed his lips in thought, tossing the idea around his mind for a while before exhaling sharply and resting his head against the wall behind him.

"Tired?"

"You have no idea…" he muttered.

"It makes sense. You've been in the locker room for a few hours. We should—"

Her words trailed off abruptly when she felt a heavy weight on her left shoulder. She turned her head to look at him and caught a small hint of that familiar earthy spiciness, though this time it was mixed with a scent of cologne she found incredibly alluring. There was a sudden knot developing in her stomach as she tried to form her words.

"Oliver…?"

"Give me five minutes," he said tiredly. "Just… five minutes."

"You can't sleep here though. It's cold."

"Five minutes," he repeated simply.

Nina soon sighed, relenting without another word. She shifted a bit to rest her back against the wall and make herself—and Oliver—more at ease. Once she settled in her place, Oliver found the sudden warmth awfully tempting and that sweet subtle aroma he now favored was enough to lull his heavy eyelids to rest.

"Your hair's still wet," she groused in a quiet but playful voice.

"You just stood in the rain for almost two hours and you're complaining about my hair being wet?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips but she said nothing in response afterwards.

_It's a start_, she thought with a self-satisfied nod to herself. Anyone who knew Oliver could surely see that he was still gutted about the match, but the fact that he actually spoke to her about it was enough to make her worries subside. Not completely—not even an inkling close to it—but most certainly, it was a start.

When a moment passed, she called out his name softly and a grunt of acknowledgement signaled he was still awake. But as the silence drew on, she could tell that soon wouldn't be the case.

Despite the cold and the storm and the bundle of nerves that created a batch of butterflies to blossom in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't deny that she felt rather content in that moment of silence. And for the first time in a long while, neither of them thought of their worries or problems or anxieties; not of what had happened in the past, what was happening in the present, or what could happen in the distant future. They were content with that calm peace, relishing it for as long as it lasted and savoring it for all it was worth.

At that point, they only had minutes of keeping that moment to themselves.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 621/2015_


	8. Chapter 8

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 – Attraction, Not Fancy<strong>

* * *

><p>There was a sudden pungent smell that filled her nostrils, a sharp scent that made her crinkle her nose as she inhaled every other second but, at the same time, it left a sweet aroma that she could almost taste. Cinnamon and apples, she realized—that was the smell wafting throughout her senses.<p>

Her eyes wandered around the lone room. A parlor, from what she could tell, though every time her eyes tried to focus on a specific object, her mind couldn't seem to retain such a memory. It was as if the room was an illusion of sorts, a trick that blurred the lines of truth and fiction in such a deceptive scheme. Every time she finally felt able to grasp what was happening, the images in her eyes, in the surroundings, it would lose meaning in her mind, as if she were experiencing it for the first time in a non-stop cycle.

Crème-colored armchairs beside a lavish stone wall and fireplace, mint green and solid blue striped throw pillows on a beige plush couch, a brown and red oriental rug under her fingertips—bits and pieces were slowly coming to her. All of it was so familiar, but irritatingly faint. She could almost say where she was and the idea tantalized itself on the tip of her tongue. But no matter what she did, she couldn't seem to say it. Almost as if it were taboo.

_"Nina."_

She heard that garbled voice and turned around. Someone stood before her, but just like the images before it, it seemed to escape her memory and remained as a blurred, incoherent figure.

_"Nina."_

It echoed for a moment and she heard her name being repeated, over and over again, before it got to the point where it was nothing more than vague whispers muffled in to the white oblivion that seemed to flood her senses.

"Nina!"

Her eyes fluttered open and she woke with a start. Sunlight poured through the window beside her bed in uncharacteristically bright streams, making her squint for a few moments before blinking her bleary eyes to focus.

"Goodness Nina, you're still sleeping?"

Nina sat up and ran her hands over her face. "What time is it?"

"_8:33_," Lizzie emphasized as she tugged the scarlet comforters to the side. "Which means you're gonna be late if you don't get up right this instant, missy."

It was at that moment that her mind finally began to process information, however slow of pace this was, and she found herself slipping out of her bed, her undergarments and towel in hand and a persistent dose of grogginess still entrenched in her mind.

As she stood there under the cold shower, hoping to jolt her mind from its nearly unresponsive state, she realized that it was Thursday morning—meaning that it was the fourth time that week she had woken up much later than usual. Why this was so was rather troubling. She couldn't quite explain such occurrences but there was a common thread between each mornings, and the mere thought of it finally made her mind operate to its normal aptitude.

Dreams, she found herself pondering, or perhaps they weren't dreams. It was inexplicably surreal to some degree but, at the same time, it _was_ real. It was something she could feel at her fingertips, something she could almost smell and taste, something she could hear without discrepancies. But she couldn't_comprehend_ any of it. For a brief moment, she wondered if it wasn't dreams but ruminations of the past or subconscious reveries.

"Nina!"

She jumped at the sound of someone pounding on the door and she tried to calm the unsteady thumps in her chest before calling out, "What time is it?"

"8:39," Felicia replied after opening the door a crack. "We're gonna go ahead of you, alright? Stop by the Great Hall as soon as you can, we'll save you a croissant."

"Okay. Thanks, Fee."

The sound of the door closing signaled that she was now left alone, making Nina sigh to herself as she rinsed her hair. Her mind drifted back to her previous musings—the dreams, recollections, ruminations—but they were quickly disregarded as soon as she checked the time and saw that the warning bell for class was drawing closer and closer.

**— ~ —**

"Later, Wood."

Oliver nodded his head in the twins' direction as they parted ways at the end of the hallway. He tugged the scarlet-and-gold scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, fixing it to a snug fit to keep in whatever warmth he could, and ran another hand through his short damp hair, fresh from his usual morning shower.

It was early December and the gloomed rainy days of late autumn had begun to meld into the thick emanation of brisk winter air. The dark clouds of storm and torrents had long ended and, for once in a long while, sunlight and pale blue Scottish skies had been bestowed upon Hogwarts.

But it didn't deter the fact that winter was fast approaching, and the cold that particular morning was rather bitter indeed. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had certainly learnt this themselves when they awoke, as usual, at 6:30 and spent the last two hours training and conditioning their bodies to the skills and abilities that Quidditch had called upon.

Although, it was notable to say that none of the Gryffindors griped about practice that morning—or at least, not much. It was, after all, the last practice before the winter break, and finishing up without an error in sight or an injury in tow was oddly satisfying. But the collective sighs of relief was more so satiated as they stepped into the flickering warmth of the locker rooms, shivering ever so slightly as the adrenaline rushing through their veins had faded. Even the Gryffindor Captain had limits—this he begrudgingly admits—and he fared well in all forms of weather when it came to Quidditch. But hell, even he was bloody cold.

"Ollie!"

Said Captain turned around at the sound of that unmistakable voice and caught sight of the familiar pair of honey-brown eyes.

"Katie," he greeted with a small smile. "Good work today. Your left arm throws have gotten better, I noticed."

She grinned back at the acknowledgement. "Why thank you, Cap'n. That wasn't exactly what I wanted to talk to you about at the moment, but thank you for the sentiment."

He glanced down at her, amused, waiting for her to go on.

"I got a letter from my mum last night," she said as they walked down the corridor at a leisurely pace. "She's heard from your dad already. He and your mum accepted the invitation to the party this New Year."

"I heard from them the other day myself. Granma and Granda already left for Italy earlier this week. They won't be back until after the New Year."

"They accepted on behalf of them, but from what Mum wrote me, they thought you might have other plans. So… I'm just curious if you can make it or not? Just so my mum can know for sure, y'know?"

"What, you'd think I'd miss your 16th birthday this year?" he asked as he ruffled her blonde bangs. "'Course I'm going."

The hopeful smile shadowing her features had brightened considerably. "Really? Are you?"

He chuckled and nodded his head.

"Perfect! Um… we're actually staying with my cousins in France for Christmas, so we won't be in for a few days. But we'll definitely be back before New Year's Eve and the party. You won't forget about my birthday this time around, will you?"

"I'll try not to," he muttered, half in jest and half in seriousness.

"For you to say that, Ollie, it actually means a lot," she joked.

They reached a splitting of paths in the corridor and paused for a moment when Oliver didn't feel the presence of someone in step beside him.

"Not heading to the Great Hall?"

She shook her head. "I have to see Professor Flitwick about my Charms essay."

"Alright then. I'll see you at lunch."

"Definitely."

Before she could stop herself—and before he could allow the action to process in his own mind—Katie wrapped her arms around his neck in a quick hug, letting her lips brush against his cheek for the briefest of moments as she pulled away. He caught an all-too-familiar hint of jasmine when she drew close and the soft fleeting warmth of her lips left a particular twinge in his chest that he hadn't felt in quite a while.

"I really do appreciate you coming over again this year, Ollie," she told him sincerely. "I'm looking forward to it."

He nodded numbly. "Me too."

She smiled back shyly. "Well… See you later."

With a curt nod in her direction, Oliver turned and continued down the corridor before him. Subconsciously, his hand rose to his cheek and he could feel the heat that had crept upon his face—one that was not the work of his scarf or sweater finally taking effect and warming up his bones.

_Bloody hell_…

To say that Oliver Wood did not care for Katie Bell would be a lie in itself. Their families have known one another for quite a while—since Oliver and Katie's parents attended Hogwarts themselves, really—so, naturally, the two have grown up being acquainted with one another. And it wasn't really until Katie had attended Hogwarts herself and joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team that they grew rather close as friends.

The attraction that they both had was, frankly put, quite mutual. And at one point for a period of time—during the middle of his sixth and her fourth year, to be exact—they had officially tested the waters of dating. However, as idyllic as that scenario sounded at the time, the problems in such a relationship far outweighed the good—and for various reasons on both their parts. Of course they cared deeply for one another, but that alone couldn't possibly be enough to fulfill the certain demand they _both_ wanted and, perhaps, it could never fulfill what they both needed as well.

Both Oliver and Katie had agreed that friendship was the best for both of them a few months into their relationship and, to their relief, things had ended amicably; neither had any ill-willed feelings nor any lingering unsaid words. In fact, it was as if they hadn't they hadn't gone out with one another at all. They had gone back to the routine of being close friends and reliable teammates. And, in truth, Oliver favored such circumstances above all.

But ever since the day Katie had brought up that sudden inquiry at Hogsmeade, he mulled it over in his mind every now and then—much more and much longer than he had originally intended. Regardless if the question was brought up out of pure curiosity, pure intention or pure hoax, it left Oliver with an ever so diligent state of mind.

_Would_ he want to? Would _she_ want to?

An internal torment had raged on in his mind, all of which was caused by nothing but a simple question. Albeit a question he expected since last year, but a question that wrecked havoc nonetheless.

He shook his head to bury the thought into a small crevice of his mind to uncover later, only to have another thought trail right behind it. It was two weeks before they would have to leave for the winter break and he had yet to buy anything for Christmas, much less Katie's own birthday.

_Fuck_.

A sigh passed his lips as he wracked his brain to figure out a solution to his dilemma. Oliver was always one for getting the presents early—during the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, usually—although the idea of it all slipped his mind that day after spending time with Katie and her quest for a dress.

_Thank Merlin for Hogsmeade_, he thought with a sense of gratitude.

The last Hogsmeade trip before the break was a week away and although it was short notice, it was most certainly a welcomed answer to his problems—or rather one of them. He still hadn't a clue what to get his friends. And it was incredibly more problematic to think of gift ideas for Katie. Shopping was by no means something Oliver took pleasure in, and the mere thought of Christmas shopping overall was enough to befuddle him into a ridiculous stupor.

_I already got something for Ma and Da, but then there's Katie's present—whatever that is—and then something for Alex, the twins, Angelina and Alicia. And then there's Felicia and Lizzie._

There was a subtle crease in his brows as he considered his next thought.

_And I should get something for Nina too… But fucking hell, what am I supposed to get h—_

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when he felt himself run into a barrier of some sort. Looking around, he realized it wasn't necessarily a barrier but a person he ran into. By subconscious habit, he held a hand to their shoulder to level himself and the person to a halt before either of them could stumble any more than they had. But the subtle sweet smell that tickled his nose caught him off-guard and he pulled away, the deep crease in his brows softening as his eyes landed upon the familiar face.

"Shit. Sorry lass, I didn't really see you there."

She glanced up at him and blinked repeatedly. "Ah… no, it's okay."

They pulled away from one another, leaving her enough room to pick up the textbook that she had dropped from the sudden collision. Oliver glanced over her once more to check if anything was wrong, but other than a fallen book and a bit of a start, they were both fine from what he could tell.

"Finished up with Quidditch practice, have you?" she asked while pushing her dark-rimmed glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah. Just came back from the pitch." He soon took note of her damp hair and flushed cheeks and smiled knowingly. "And I take it you woke up late again, aye?"

She scratched the back of her head sheepishly and realized that she had forgotten to use her hair-drying charm in her rush that morning. Her eyes landed on the noticeably wet locks in between her fingers and she sighed.

"Dead giveaway huh?"

"I s'ppose. That makes it, what, the third time this week?"

"Fourth, actually," she muttered. She soon shook her head to get rid of the thought, "But it's fine. I'll have you know that I actually woke up earlier than the other times this week."

"I can see that," he remarked with a small smirk.

"Heading to the Great Hall?" she asked.

"'Course."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then."

"Where are you off to?"

"Professor Lupin asked me come in a bit before class started. He mentioned he wanted to speak to me about something."

"About what?"

At this, though, Nina shrugged her shoulders and looked just as interested as he did. "Not quite sure. But I'll find out myself in a bit, I'm certain."

"I guess I'll see you in class then."

Nina smiled and nodded her head before she started to walk past him. Oliver stood in his place for a moment, watching her retreating form head down the halls. But the sight of her slim frame caused a memory to resurface in the back of his mind and had created a sudden spark of inspiration that began to spread like wildfire. Before he could fully comprehend it himself, her name slipped past his lips and her warm brown gaze caught his.

"Something wrong?"

"Err_… _No, I was just thinking." He didn't quite think past this part, really. "There's a Hogsmeade trip next weekend and I need to pick out a couple of Christmas gifts. But I was kinda hoping you might be able to… come with me?"

"Ah… With you? To Hogsmeade?" she asked in a slow, uncertain voice.

"To help me pick out gifts for Lizzie and Fee and the others," he reassured. "I'm shite when it comes to all this shopping nonsense. I usually just get everyone whatever comes to mind. But Katie's birthday is coming up during the break too and I honestly have no bloody idea what to get her or anyone else."

"Well… I was planning on going to Hogsmeade myself, really," she murmured aloud. "I needed to pick up gifts for Fee and Lizzie as well…"

"Do you?" he asked with a quirked brow.

Nina smiled. "I need to pick up some other gifts as well, so yes—I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you, Oliver. It sounds more fun than going on my own anyways."

"Great. But erm… just out of curiosity, you're not one of those crazy, lunatic shopaholic types of girls, are you?"

It took a moment for Nina's mind to absorb his words, but even then the look of disbelief had yet to leave her features. That look soon turned strange as she eyed him with furrowed brows. "No. But I suppose I _could_ be… if I wanted to."

"Fair enough answer."

"Maybe I should be a crazed shopaholic that day then," she muttered thoughtfully, turning to continue down the halls.

"What, just to spite me?" he asked with a quirked brow.

She faced him once more and took slow steps backwards. "Spite you, Oliver Wood? Never."

But he rolled his eyes at the lively glint he saw. "Looking forward to it then."

With a soft giggle and another wave in parting, Nina turned and finally continued on with her trek to Professor Lupin's class while Oliver continued onto the Great Hall. But the smiles breaking through across their faces were quite similar in hindsight, and brought about by most similar reasons. Though neither of them was aware of that at the moment.

**— ~ —**

In truth, Nina hadn't really thought that much of Oliver's request throughout the day. She was looking forward to the next weekend with an understandable sense enthusiasm, as one would feel whenever they were spending an afternoon with an old friend. But other than that, she hadn't put too much effort into regarding it as anything else.

Since the Hufflepuff match weeks back, Oliver and Nina had grown to be rather good friends. Of course, they were good friends even before the match, but it wouldn't be farfetched to claim that Oliver regarded the lass with a bit more esteem than he led on.

On a few—actually, _rare_—occasions, he had confided her about certain things that crossed his mind without hesitations, and Nina found herself doing the same. Certainly, good friends were allowed such parameters. And, in truth, Nina found it rather comfortable sharing tid-bits of her life with the lad; natural, almost. She trusted him, after all—and him, likewise.

But it hadn't occurred to her that a simple trip to Hogsmeade could be seen in different aspects until it was brought to her attention.

"We figured we'd find you here," a voice broke in cheerfully.

Looking up from the blank parchment in front of her, Nina smiled in greeting at her two friends as they leant against the boulder she had situated herself on.

"Just wanted to enjoy the day outside."

"I can't blame you," the petite blonde sighed, turning her face upwards to feel the warm rays of light tickling her cold cheeks. "It's been a while since we've seen such nice weather at Hogwarts."

"Other than the cold, it's rather enjoyable," the caramel-haired teen nodded in agreement, tucking her pale blue scarf into her white pea-coat to retain some of the warmth radiating off her body.

They stood—or sat, for Nina's case—in silence as they soaked in the contradiction of cool brisk air and bright Scottish skies, eyeing their surroundings with a quiet, subconscious awe. It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon, they had to admit. Nina had taken a liking for this particular boulder on the shorelines of the lake, but Lizzie and Fee found it to be a rather pleasant place for peace and quiet as well.

The Black Lake had returned to the enriched hue of cobalt blue, shimmering faintly to a greenish tint in the bright light. Mountains surrounding the castle seemed to have reclaimed the charm that made it as captivating as they last remembered. The crisp clarity of the forests and hills after a brief shower, the dark green stalks of evergreen trees, mature and ripe, waiting for the inevitable dust of snow—it was all quite the lovely sight.

Perhaps it was because it was their last year that made them so sentimental of the natural beauty Hogwarts was blessed with. Or perhaps it was because they'd been cooped up in the castle grounds for so long that the sight before them was exaggerated beyond its actual means. But whatever the reason, they found that moment rather peaceful and, to some degree, timeless. It was a sight they would never tire of.

"Writing a letter?" Lizzie asked after a moment quiet.

"Hm?" Nina came to her senses and glanced down at the parchment resting atop her lap before heaving a quiet sigh. "Ah, right. Just trying to think of what to write my mum."

"Still having issues?"

At this, the ebony-haired teen paused to think of her words carefully. Truth be told, she had been sitting there since the end of breakfast—a few hours or so ago—and she had yet to write a single word beyond the formalities of '_Dearest Mumma_.' Perhaps 'issues' wasn't quite the word to describe it, but that wasn't a thought she wished to voice aloud.

"It's fine," she found herself saying. "We're working through them somehow."

"That's good to hear," Fee said as she absentmindedly picked at the tall grass beside the boulder. "I was almost starting to worry about that myself when you told me you hadn't written her back yet."

Nina smiled and closed her notebook on the relatively blank piece of parchment. "No need to worry. I just haven't found time to write her back yet."

_A lie_, she subconsciously thought—though, it was more so half a lie than anything else. True, she had been rather busy in her own right to find time to respond to the letter she'd gotten so long ago. But, if anything, she had been too busy trying to think of the words she wished to write instead of writing anything at all.

"Anyways," she started to say, changing the subject to something more lighter in topics. "Where's Alex? Or the twins?"

"The twins are with Angelina or Alicia, I'm sure. They rambled on about not bugging them enough lately, so I suppose they're spending time with them now."

"Gives you a break then," Nina said with a soft laugh.

"Thank Merlin," Fee said with a theatrical sigh.

"And Alex?"

"With Wood somewhere. I think they mentioned something about taking a run around the Castle grounds, but I'm not quite sure."

"I'm still a little surprised you didn't join them, Liz. You two have been joined at the hip for the longest of times."

Lizzie pouted her lips and stepped in between them to sling her arms over their shoulders. She gave them both a quick peck on the cheek and hugged them tightly. "You two are still my best friends, you know. Nothing changes that. And as much as I love Alex, I love you two as well."

"Aww, is that some form of apology for not spending time with us as much?" Fee smiled as she hugged the slightly taller girl.

"If you wish it to be, sure," Lizzie laughed. "But in all seriousness, I'm sorry if it seems as though I haven't spent time with you two as much this year. I mean, with Alex and then our NEWT classes and then—"

"Liz, don't worry about it," Nina interrupted with a knowing smile and a reassuring hug. "We understand. He's your boyfriend, he deserves your attention just as much as we do."

"Yeah. I was only teasing you earlier. If anything, I would've been a bit angry if you and Alex didn't do anything at all. I mean honestly, a year of constantly flirting and nothing to show for it? C'mon, gimme a break."

"You two," Lizzie giggled. With one last hug, she pulled away from them and clapped her hands together at the thought that resurfaced in her mind. "Speaking of you two—what are your plans for the Christmas break?"

Nina sat back atop her boulder and glanced down at Fee as she let out a quiet 'hmm' in contemplation.

"I heard from Mum and Dad not too long ago. They're staying in South America this time around because of the dig. I kinda expected such, but I'm fine with it."

"And you know I always stay in the Castle," Nina added with a faint smile. The reason for so wasn't necessary to explain aloud. She hadn't a place to go during the holidays other than the States; but, of course, that was always out of the question.

"Right," Lizzie started with a sympathetic glance to her brown-eyed friend. But the look soon transformed into one of hopefulness and excitement, and she continued on with her words, "But if that's the case, then maybe you two would like to stay over at my place for Christmas?"

"Your place?"

"Really?"

Lizzie beamed. "'Course. I've already owl'd my mum and dad about it a few weeks ago. They were completely fine with it. You two haven't been over since third year, but we've moved since then. And our home now is much bigger, so there's plenty of room. Mum and Dad kept saying they were eager to have you two over. Michael too—he hasn't seen either of you in the longest of times."

"Count me in!" Fee smiled brightly. "I'd love to come over. Your mum's cooking is the _best_, Liz. And I haven't seen Michael since we boarded the train sixth year! How's the little bugger anyway?"

"He's ecstatic, actually. Mum said he got riled up when he heard you two would be coming over."

"It's his last year at Rosemary Prep, isn't it?"

"Yup. After that, he's off to Hogwarts. I'm kinda disappointed we've already graduated by the time he's enrolled, but oh well. He would've found it incredibly awkward if his big sis was constantly there to annoy and embarrass him anyway."

"Isn't that your job as a big sister though?"

"'Course! But it doesn't mean he always likes it," Lizzie grinned. She turned her gaze to Nina and gave her an eager look. "So, what about you, Nina? You'll come over too, won't you?"

"Of course. I need to write to my mum to tell her about it, but I'm almost certain that she won't mind."

"It's not like she could do much to stop you anyways," Fee mused with a sly grin. "She's half a world away, after all."

Nina smiled wryly. "True."

Lizzie leant against the boulder with a satisfied nod and smiled to herself. Her plan for the break was going over impeccably well.

"We aren't doing anything too spectacular for Christmas this year," she went on to clarify. "Most of my aunts, uncles and cousins are going to be out of the country, but we're staying in. It's the main reason why I wanted to have you two over. Since it's just me and my family, I figured it'd be nice to have you two over as well."

"Sounds good to me," Fee shrugged, to which Nina nodded in confirmation as well.

"Oh! That means I can cook my cinnamon rolls for the holidays as well," Nina beamed at the realization. "I mean, if that's alright with you and your mum, Liz. I don't mean to impose or anything of the sort."

At the mere mention of the delectable sugary sweet, the two teens groaned and imagined that the warm cinnamon treat along with a nice glass of milk would certainly hit the spot at that moment.

"By all means, Nina—_please _do. The ones you made for our birthdays were _amazing_. And I'm sure Mum would love you forever if you gave her that recipe."

"Sure," Nina laughed.

"Ooh—does that mean you'll make those chocolate dipped cookie things you always make?" Fee asked with child-like eagerness.

"I usually do. I send them out as presents, so I don't see why not. I can always make a bigger batch this year for us to snack on."

"Perfect!" Fee grinned before losing herself to her thoughts to the chocolate treats and cinnamon rolls her best friend may as well be renowned for. She definitely had to get those recipes, she thought to herself.

"Have you two gotten your presents this year?" Lizzie asked curiously, almost hoping to get a hint as to what she would be getting.

"Sure did."

Nina gave her a curious look. "When?"

"Hogsmeade trip—when you weren't looking," Fee replied simply.

Nina pondered about her friend's response, wondering to herself when Felicia could have pulled off such a feat. They were side-by-side throughout the majority of the trip—and, surely, she would have noticed _something_. But she quickly pushed her musings aside before turning to look at the caramel-haired teen beside her.

"And you, Lizzie?"

"I bought all mine with Alex."

Slowly, she nodded her head but soon sighed to herself. Apparently, she was among the last few of her friends to actually go shopping.

"I take it you haven't yet?" Lizzie chuckled after noting the pout on making way across Nina's features.

"Not yet."

"We could go with you, if you want. There's a Hogsmeade trip before we leave for the break. You could do your Christmas shopping then."

"I know. I was actually gonna go into town with Oliver to finish up my Christmas shopping, so it's fine. It gives me a chance to surprise you two."

Silence settled upon the group of friends for a moment. A look was shared between two teens unbeknownst to the other, who was lost in thought over what to get her ever so curious friends.

"You're going to Hogsmeade with Oliver _Wood_?"

Nina heard the question and nodded her head.

"Just the two of you?"

"I suppose that's the case," she thought aloud. "I was planning on going to Hogsmeade on my own next weekend, but Oliver asked me to help him with picking out gifts so I thought it'd be nice to go with him instead of going alone."

"Wait, so Oliver asked you?" Lizzie inquired, grinning ever so subtly.

Again, Nina nodded. Another bout of silence fell between the girls but this time Nina was well aware of it—along with the look that her two best friends had shared between them.

"Is there anything going on between you two, Miss Fey?" Lizzie asked with an impish grin.

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

"You and Oliver Wood," Felicia said.

A quiet sigh left Nina's lips. _Not this again_, she thought as her mind flickered back to the incident between her and the Slytherin Captain a number of weeks ago. She let out a dismissive 'hmm' at the memory and pulled her knees to her chest out of subconscious habit.

"We're only friends."

"Really?" Fee voiced in a slightly unconvinced tone.

"Really."

"Just friends?"

She relented. "Yes, _just_ friends."

"Friends who go off to Hogsmeade alone with just the two of them, apparently," Lizzie grinned.

"Liz, it's not like that. I like Oliver—"

"Ah?" they rose their brows expectantly.

"—_as a friend_," Nina finished sternly, to which she was greeted with pouts and furrowed brows. "He asked me for a favor of sorts, so I'm only helping him out. It's not as if it's a…"

"A date?"

Nina shook her head once more at the mere notion. "It isn't a date if he's buying a present for another girl."

Her friends turned silent and mulled her words about their minds for a short period of time, unwilling to shake off the idea that, perhaps, Nina Fey actually fancied another bloke—their own House Captain, at that. In that moment of quiet, though, Nina smiled knowingly to herself and shook her head.

She would never say anything that would pertain to a private sentiment shared between her and a friend. But skimming it over ever so vaguely to make a point was the only thing she could think of to convince her friends on the matter.

"He asked me to help pick out a gift for Katie. It's her birthday on the 29th, you know."

Lizzie sighed, still trying to make sense of the scenario in favor of her friend. After a quick attempt of thought, she could only mutter a rather lame, "I see…" in her efforts. Fee, on the other hand, was unusually quiet although nevertheless pensive.

"It doesn't mean that Wood doesn't fancy you though," she commented in afterthought.

"Oliver Wood does not fancy me," Nina stated with a quiet laugh.

"Then do you fancy Wood?"

"Guys, we just went over this…"

"Alright, then do you find him attractive?"

"He's quite the good-looking bloke, isn't he? Quite the number of girls from all Houses are rather taken with him. Even Slytherin girls pine after him after spewing their abhorrence of him being a Gryffindor."

"Of course he's handsome, but that doesn't…" Nina quickly realized her words and slowly felt the heat in her cheeks radiate down to sudden batch of butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. The wide grins and smiles spreading across her friends' faces spoke volumes for itself, but after realizing that her words couldn't be taken back or covered up, she sighed in defeat. "Finding someone attractive and actually fancying someone are two completely different things. You two know that just as well as I do…"

"Alright, alright. Fair enough," Lizzie trailed off, content with the amount of information she had just learned.

"We won't say anything else on the matter," Fee grinned.

But the two girls shared a look between them, taking no heed to the odd expression on Nina's face as she stared at them. She had a faint idea as to what that silent conversation their eyes had shared really meant, but opted to remain silent and ignore the faint blush that had dawdled about her features.

Nina Fey did _not_ fancy Oliver Wood. She thought the lad was charismatic and handsome, yes—but it couldn't be possible. It was like a mantra in her mind, being repeated over and over and over again.

_We're only friends_, she thought. _Good friends._

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 622/2015_


	9. Chapter 9

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 – Oliver the Owl<strong>

* * *

><p>Oliver stood at the Clock Tower entrance, idly listening to his Head of House as she went on with the usual rules and expectations of conduct while in the neighboring town. 'No roughhousing; avoidance of indecency; respect of townsfolk'—things he's heard for the last six years, of course. He glanced down at his wristwatch when she began to take a list of names and permission slips before he exhaled to himself, watching as a fine thin mist expelled from his lips and swirled lithely into the crisp winter air.<p>

It was much less crowded in comparison to the last Hogsmeade trip. Third and fourth years made the bulk of the group visiting that time around, and there were only a handful of other seven years, from what Oliver could make out. But such circumstances usually were the case throughout the year. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets after another quick glimpse of his wristwatch and leant against the stone pillar behind him.

_8:53_, he noted. She should be down any minute.

His mind wandered to the girl in question and a smile teetered across the Gryffindor Captain's handsome features. A memory had drifted back to mind; one created the night before, when he reminded his ebony-haired friend about their plans and her genuine words, 'looking forward to it,' were assured.

As quick as that smile came, though, it faded into a line that accompanied his look of pensiveness. It had already been a week since then, but time hadn't corrupted the precision of the conversation that was now running through his mind like some broken Muggle record.

Boredom seemed to have been the main conspirator that Saturday afternoon. With the twins off to spend some time with the three lady Chasers of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and the last remaining ladies off on their own for a girls day—as Lizzie and Fee affectionately claimed it—the two Gryffindors were, essentially, left to their own devices that day. Not that they minded much, of course. But after getting quite the workout running through the grounds of Hogwarts (Oliver Wood _was_the other half of the duo, after all; he could never turn down the opportunity for a good run) they tired after an hour or so, which only made their laziness that much more pronounced that moment.

The two teens ended their run to a slow jog at the trail that outskirt the Forbidden Forest, skimming the shores of the lake. They only meant to stop and rest for a few minutes but, somehow, it turned into half an hour; and without him fully realizing it, the conversation had turned to the topic Oliver had been skirting around for last few weeks.

"You fancy her then?" he recalled Alexander asking.

Oliver glanced at the sandy-haired teen for a fleeting moment before throwing the rock he'd been fiddling with in his hands into the dark waters of the lake, unleashing a bit of his frustration into his throw along with it. "Fancy who?"

"Oh come off it, Oliver," Alex smirked in such a Slytherin fashion that Oliver couldn't help but quirk a curious brow. "You know bloody well who I'm talking about."

"I don't fancy her," Oliver said as he threw another stone into the depths of the Black Lake.

"What about—"

"You're reaching on that one," Oliver jabbed in abruptly, adding more vigor into his next throw. "We're friends. We like one another's company, but that's all. It isn't gonna be anything more than that."

"You don't even know if you want it to," the sandy-haired teen pointed out with a lighthearted chuckle. He pulled back his arm and threw a smooth white rock into the waters quite an impressive distance away. Oliver frowned and threw the stone he had been juggling back and forth between his hands, only to watch it fall embarrassingly short from Alex's previous throw.

"Well, I've gotten two of my points across," Alex started to say. He pointed at Oliver and grinned. "Point one: _you_ are gonna royally fuck yourself over if you don't know how you feel for either Katie or Nina. The fact that you didn't even say anything just right now proved that rather well, so I say figure it out before it's too sodding late."

When silence and loss of words caught up to the Gryffindor Captain—apparently so with the deep furrow of his brows and undirected glare on his face—Alex took advantage of the quiet moment and motioned to the lake before them with yet another smirk. "And point two: never fuck with a Chaser in a throwing contest, mate. I may not have played officially in over two years, but I still have a pretty damn good throwing arm."

Oliver himself wasn't quite sure whether he should laugh or scowl at his best mate. But it couldn't be denied that he was right in some form or another. He knew himself—regardless of how long it's been since a person last played, a Chaser will always have a bloody brilliant throw that couldn't possibly compare to that of Keeper's.

_Lesson learned_, he mused to himself at that moment.

But Alex couldn't have been any more mistaken in his other claim. Oliver didn't need to 'figure out' anything, as the cheeky bloke asserted. He knew bloody well how he felt about both girls and that itself wasn't something worth speculating over. Of course, that was his opinion. He never believed that his 'love life'—as his three Chasers called it—should be under the scrutiny of others. Though, it was inevitably the case in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Nevertheless, he regarded both Nina and Katie as good friends of his. Of course they were girls, but that was hardly relevant in his eyes.

Nina Fey was a friend. A good friend.

"Oliver!"

He shook himself out of his contemplations and felt a particular twinge in his chest as his gaze met warm brown eyes behind those black-framed spectacles. But he figured it was the sudden surprise that gave him such a start. Nothing but an involuntary body response, he thought.

"I'm sorry," she said while trying to catch her breath. "Lizzie and Felicia are still asleep and my alarm clock didn't go off when it should have. I barely woke up half an hour ago, but I got ready as quick as I could." She smiled sheepishly at her mishap. "Did I make you wait long?"

He straightened up in his place and took a few steps forward to meet her part of the way. Her long dark brown hair was once again noticeably damp and there was a rosy tint in her cheeks that was impossible to dismiss. The rushed explanation was obviously the case, which only made him chuckle quietly to himself.

"It wasn't that bad. A couple more minutes, though, and I would've figured you abandoned me altogether for the day."

"Sorry," her apologetic smile brightened considerably as she gave a tug at the sleeve of his navy blue coat. "I may be late, but I would never ditch anyone once I gave them my word. I don't break my promises, Oliver Wood."

A faint smile played across his lips as they approached the elder Transfiguration Professor and he muttered an off-handed 'I know.'

"Miss Fey, Mr. Wood," Professor McGonagall greeted with a faint air of surprise. She glanced between them and went on, if anything, in a rather prudent tone, "You two shall be accompanying one another in Hogsmeade, I assume?"

"Yes ma'am."

McGonagall blinked and glanced between them before writing down their names on the parchment in her hands. "Very well, then. Please behave you two."

"'Course, Professor," Oliver said politely.

He placed his hand on the small of Nina's back to usher her past a group of third years and the pair headed for the Thestral-drawn carriages.

"I'm not gonna regret asking you to join me today, am I?" he asked in a jested manner as they neared a carriage for themselves.

She glared playfully at him and motioned to the Castle behind them, "You know, if you're worried about my 'shopaholic' tendencies then maybe I should just leave you now and—"

He took the hand that she had gestured with and rolled his eyes as he opened the carriage door. "I was kidding, lass. If you leave now then I'd be stuck in the middle of Hogsmeade feeling completely incompetent 'cause I have no sodding idea about what the hell to get everyone. Spare me such a blow to the ego, huh?"

Oliver motioned to the carriage and muttered a 'ladies first' as he held onto her hand to help her in. Ignoring the sudden flutter in her chest, Nina glanced between the carriage and the tall brunette before her and smiled as she stepped in. "I suppose we can't have such a dent in your chivalrous pride then, Mr. Wood."

With a chuckle, the Gryffindor pulled himself in and sat in the seat in front of her. "Rather considerate of you, Miss Fey."

**— ~ —**

The snowfall had created a certain homely charm atop of Hogsmeade's quaint ambience. The snow-dusted streets and cottages seemed to have only added on to festive cheer that the Hogwarts students had bustled in, and it was a nice change of pace for everyone to be in such high spirits after the somewhat monotonous days of school and mid-term exams.

In truth, Nina always loved visiting Hogsmeade during the wintertime because of the liveliness that fell upon the sleepy village. Even though she typically spent her winter breaks in Hogwarts Castle, she couldn't deny the fact that Christmas was her favorite holiday.

Oliver saw this for himself when they began their gifting escapades. He half-expected the lass to drag him to every bloody shop there was in Hogsmeade just to buy and spend. But to his surprise—and relief—Nina was rather easy-going with Christmas shopping. Enthusiastic, perhaps, but it was most certainly a far cry from the 'crazy, lunatic shopaholic' he had imagined when he first asked her to accompany him. And although she didn't buy much, he noticed that she was rather thoughtful about what to get others.

"Gifts have to be from _you_. It doesn't matter how many galleons you have in your name or how many galleons you've spent—as long as you put some thought into it, then that's all that matters. At least, that's what I believe," she told him when they first started to brainstorm gift ideas.

Originally, he was planning on getting his teammates something along the lines of new Quidditch gear or those gift-cards he had seen the shops giving out. But Nina frowned at the notion—gave him a good smack on the arm for it, as well—and told him to think again. It bewildered him for a moment, seeing as how he really had no clue as to what to get the others. Last year, he'd gotten everyone simple souvenirs he brought back from his family's short trip to Prague. Shirts for his best mates and pretty accessories for the girls, mostly; though he knew he couldn't possibly use the same gift ideas this year.

But true to her word, Nina managed to point him in the right direction and he, finally, sorted out his presents for the others. Muggle firecrackers from Zonko's for Fred and George (a new favorite of theirs this year, much to his chagrin, and bloody expensive to boot); lovely scarves and cardigans for Lizzie and Fee chosen with Nina's assistance; fragrance sets for Angelina and Alicia; a tome he knew Alex would like; and he even managed to buy a fragrance set for Nina without her suspicions. The scent—that sweet subtle smell he could never properly pinpoint—reminded him of her instantly, but he could only hope she would like it. The only gift he needed to get now was Katie's. But for the moment, he was certain he would come up with something by the end of the day.

Truth be told, he was a bit surprised that he had lasted as long as he did. He most certainly didn't expect to have gone through the day without an ounce of frustration or an inkling of regret in asking for Nina to accompany him. Dare he say it—Oliver Wood was actually enjoying himself.

"It suits him, no?"

Nina held up a deep amber-colored earflap beanie with round golden bear-like ears on the top. Oliver wasn't quite sure what to make of it, really. It caught his attention, that was surely true, but Nina thought it was brilliant.

He gave a small tug at the soft material that served as the ears. "I've never seen this before on hats…"

"It's a Muggle thing," she grinned. "There's a lot of them floating around back home. They make it look like pandas and bears and other animals like that. But it makes it more fun that way though. To be honest, I'm a bit surprised there's actually some in Hogsmeade…"

"You're getting it?" he asked in bewilderment as she began to walk away with the beanie in her hands.

"'Course! I think it's awesome. And I have a feeling Alex is gonna like it too. Other than that, it's _orange_—and a nice orange color at that. You said that was his favorite color, didn't you?"

"I s'ppose that's true," he started to say as he rubbed the back of his neck. "At least it's not the color of those Muggle things on the road. What are they called again? The triangle things that you say always get run over by angry drivers?"

"Traffic cones," she replied with a soft laugh. "And I wouldn't even think of subjecting Alex to wear something that's the color of a traffic cone. Although… I doubt he actually _knows _what that is…"

"Not many wizards or witches do, lass," he chuckled. He took the hat from her hands and took a glance over it. "But I'm sure Alex will like it though. Anything'll do, really, but the fact that it's from you and it's in his favorite color already tips things in your favor."

"Just need to get him a matching scarf and I'm almost done with my gift shopping," she said with a nod as they continued down the aisle.

"Oh?" he voiced after her. "Who else do you need to get gifts for?"

At this, she smiled and flicked a mock-glare in his direction. "Not telling."

"What, it's a secret of sorts now? And here I was thinking we were helping one another in choosing gifts."

"Of course we are. But if I were to tell _you_, then the person I need to get the gift for will definitely know as well."

"It's not like I would say anything."

"Believe me, Oliver." She patted his chest and smiled as she walked past him. "You would definitely say something."

He stared at her oddly, but shook his head nonetheless and followed after her. What the Gryffindor Captain didn't think to consider was that the last person she needed to find a gift for was none other than himself. Since the start of that day, Nina had been trying to wrack her brain for ideas of what to get the lad, and most of her efforts thus far turned up rather short.

A nice shirt or scarf could always be a possibility, but she figured that he would most certainly get enough of that from others—Fee even mentioned that she'd gotten him something along those lines herself. Quidditch would always be a strong choice to fall back on but, in all honesty, she hadn't a clue as to what Oliver would need. He's the Quidditch Captain, after all—he most likely had everything he needed if something was missing or broken or askew. And other than that, her discretion would most definitely be given away if they were to walk into Sprintwitches to shop for something with Oliver Wood in tow.

Of course, she could give him the cookies that she was planning on making and sending to the others—in fact, she was already intent on sending him some—but, at the same time, she felt that that wasn't nearly enough. Oliver was a good friend of hers, and she wanted to get him something, even if it was something with the faintest of significances. But at that point she couldn't think of what.

"Got everything you need, Nina?"

"Hmm… maybe," she continued to wander about the back end of the store where they had yet to look over.

It was a much larger emporium that they had walked into this time, smaller in appearances from the outside, but she knew looks could very well be deceiving in the wizarding world. Fashionable robes and clothes lined the aisles and tables of the shop, with different mannequins displaying the latest fashions of the season and select paintings and posters lining to walls for sale. There was a second floor landing in the shop, which appeared to show another section for shoes and accessories appealing to more of the female clientele. For Oliver's sake—and patience, which she noticed was surprisingly abundant that day—she opted to stay out of that part of the shop and continued on her way.

The back section seemed to hold more of the miscellaneous trinkets and knick-knacks for homes, which made Nina smile faintly. She always liked browsing the odd little trinkets that the wizarding world had.

"Is this person you need to find a gift for a girl or a guy?" Oliver asked curiously.

Nina paused for a moment and saw little harm in revealing the small detail. "A guy. Still wondering who this person is, are you?"

"No. It's just most lads I know hate these type of knick-knacks," he replied with a small grin, picking up a glass figurine of a heavily adorned angel for emphasis. "Or at least—they don't care for them all that much. Very rare to find a lad that collects weeping angels and porcelain houses."

She let out a soft laugh and placed the enchanted snow globe of a merry St. Nicholas back onto the shelf from whence she found it.

"Duly noted," she said with a nod. "But I just think it's interesting to see the things the wizarding world has. It's much different from the Muggle world, so…"

Her words trailed off a bit when a particular fine bronze color caught the corner of her eye. Curious, she walked down the row towards a table hidden away in an alcove and suddenly felt the corner of her lips twitch aloft at the sight that laid before her. There were a number of cute plush dolls on the table and lining the shelves, but she picked up a peach-colored one and felt the smile lingering about her lips widen considerably when she sensed Oliver standing beside her.

"I have one exactly like this back home," she told him as she held it out for him to see, her fingers brushing against the white and beige stitching of its round eyes. "I saw it when I was shopping with my mum before we started first year, so I got it because it looked exactly like Ollie. The resemblance really is a bit uncanny, now that I think of it."

She mumbled the last part more to herself than aloud. But at the mention of 'Ollie,' Oliver simply rose a brow and glanced down at her.

"Ollie?"

It was at that point that realization struck the ebony-haired teen and she slowly glanced between the plush in her hand and the tall brunette beside her. Surprised at the sudden revelation, a quiet laugh sputtered from her lips and she hid it into the sleeve of her crème-colored cardigan. Though, it didn't help the taller Gryffindor's confusion at that point in time. He continued to stare at her with a confused grin and she stared back at him with a sudden twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

"Sorry, it's just…" She held up 'Ollie' for him to see once more. "I got this because it looks exactly like my first owl—Oliver. But I called him Ollie."

The Gryffindor blinked.

"You're kidding," he deadpanned. "Oliver the owl?"

"My mum thought it was a cute name at the time. He was hers before she gave him to me for Hogwarts, so I had no say in it whatsoever. But I guess that's a bit coincidental, isn't it?"

Oliver glanced down at the plush in her hands and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure if I should feel offended or flattered…"

"I'll have you know, Ollie was a very smart owl," she said with a firm nod. "My mum helped train him. And he wasn't the slightest bit wild or ornery. He was a good role model for Rufus, so I trained Roo everything Ollie knew. They're both very nice owls."

"That's s'pposed to make me feel flattered then?"

"Of course it should. It's actually a very nice compliment."

He rolled his eyes, though in good-nature than anything else. "It's quite humbling to be compared to an owl."

"But a very nice and intelligent and considerate owl," she added with a smile.

Oliver stared at her for a moment, considering her words in his mind and finding it rather strange. Honestly, was he supposed to regard it in high esteem or in degradation to be compared to an owl? Whatever the case, he shook his head and felt the corners of his lips twitch aloft.

"Whatever you say then, lass," was all he said before turning to continue down the aisle.

Nina laughed softly to herself and placed the plush down on the table. But as she turned to follow after him, she paused for a moment and flicked her gaze back down to the familiar bronze-colored Ollie.

_Maybe_, she thought with a faint smile at the sudden conviction. _Perhaps, I should…_

"Everything alright?"

She turned her head and met Oliver's curious stare. Another smile played across her lips and she simply nodded before walking forward and grabbing onto his sleeve to tug him along with her.

"Everything's perfect," she said honestly. "Now, c'mon Owl. We need to buy Alex's gift. We still have a bit of shopping ahead of us, you know."

Oliver was still reeling in his friend's sudden odd behavior, preventing him from fully allowing her words to process in his mind. It was only when they were at the counter buying their selection of items that he suddenly turned to her and gave her a befuddled look.

"Did you just call me Owl?"

**— ~ —**

Nina and Oliver wandered around Hogsmeade for a bit longer, buying the last of their gifts for the list of people they had mentally jotted down. For the most part, they were nearly finished by the time they stopped by the Three Broomsticks for a break. Only one last gift remained, which was something they both brewed over in the back of their heads. But for the moment they simply enjoyed being off their feet and eating an order of chips and butterbeer.

"I don't understand how girls can actual shop all day long like this," Oliver muttered after a sip of his butterbeer. "It's already been a couple hours and I'm about ready to call it a day. Give my Ma and cousins a shopping spree and they're gone well until the night…"

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Nina grinned.

"I suppose I have a _little_ bit more respect for anyone who can last shopping for this long," he chuckled. "I bloody hate doing it unless I really need to."

She nodded her head in understanding before she took a sip of her own butterbeer. "Then you're no different from any other guy in the world. But I don't think today was _as_ bad as it could've been."

"Surprisingly enough, it wasn't that bad at all," he shrugged as he leant forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I got all my things for Christmas. And without getting yelled at or hexed somehow, so I think it's been a pretty successful day."

"Well, I would've hexed you myself if you really went ahead and got your teammates Quidditch robes and gear like you first suggested…"

"Ah, but I didn't now, did I? That was mostly 'cause of you, I'll admit. But I listened, and it turned out to be a win-win situation."

"How so?" she asked in amusement.

"Well for me, I didn't get hexed to bloody bits by you. I've seen you duel a number of times already in DADA, lass. You're brilliant with a wand. And being on the receiving end of all that isn't something anyone should fancy. I remember."

She pouted and held her glass tankard of butterbeer to warm her hands. "I didn't _mean_ to rip your robes… or shirt… or pants…"

He laughed. "All's forgiven. Almost scared the shite out of me that time, but at least it showed me I needed to work on my shield charm. Against you, that is. And you mended my clothes with charms afterwards, so it's not like it matters much anyways."

"Yeah well, I got a couple of dirty looks because of that," she sighed as she recalled.

During their dueling lesson weeks back, her _gladius_ spells broke through his shield charm, which scared her half to death as much as it did for Oliver. But—thank Merlin, she thought—it didn't wound him in any way. It ripped through the sides of his shirt and pants and exposed a bit of his torso but nothing else beyond that. She fixed his clothes for him with a simple charm, of course—it was the least she could do for nearly disemboweling the poor bloke—but not before taking a few, albeit hesitant, glimpses at the Gryffindor Captain and realizing that he was incredibly more leaner and toned than he led on.

Quidditch certainly did the lad well over the last six years, she thought as she reminisced about that day. And, apparently, the majority of the girls in her class thought this as well. Even with the blush creeping out and permeating her cheeks, she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the other thought that came along with Oliver Wood's utterly amazing physique. Clearly, he took House pride to heart. She specifically remembered seeing scarlet-and-gold boxers exposed through the open rips and tears of his pants that day.

"What's so funny?" Oliver asked with a faint smirk.

She quickly shook her head and tried to hold back her grin. "Nothing. Just… wondering how I won in this win-win situation you mentioned earlier."

"Well… You had fun today." At this, she glanced up at him with a look of surprise. She had opened her mouth, ready to say something, but suddenly found herself at a loss for words. "I thought that part was a bit obvious," he chuckled.

With a soft smile, she glanced down at her glass tankard of butterbeer, still relishing the feeling of the warmth seeping through her cold fingers.

"Ah, no… No, you're right. I had a lot of fun today. Between you and your crazy gift ideas and just spending a day outside the castle and hanging out—it's really nice. It's much better being in someone else's company than going into the village on my own, so I'm glad you asked me to come with you today, Owl."

Oliver nodded. "'Course. But… mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all."

"Where did this 'Owl' business come from all of a sudden? You've been calling me that every now and then since we left that shop a while back."

"Do you mind if I do?" she questioned with a curious tilt of her head. "To be honest, I said it the first time just to tease you, but I kinda like that nickname for you now. It's actually starting to really stick, I think."

"You aren't gonna stop even if I do say something, are you?"

"Not a chance," she grinned.

He gave a quiet snort before taking another sip of butterbeer. "I guess it'll grow on me then."

"Good," she said with a firm nod and reaching to munch on chip. "Now, what's the last gift that we need to get, Owl?"

Oliver hid his grin into the weary sigh that left his lips. After running a hand through his short brown hair, he leant back into his seat and stared at the ebony-haired teen in front of him.

"I'm pretty sure you've gotten all the presents you needed to get." She gave a nod of confirmation and he continued, "so that means we only need to get Katie's present."

Slowly, Nina nodded her head once more, continuing to munch on her chip as she became lost in thought. After a while, she brushed the crumbs and salt from her hands and wrapped her hands around her tankard of butterbeer to defrost her fingers once more.

This was the reason why they were here, she told herself. Helping Oliver find a gift for Katie was, by and large, the main reason for accompanying him that day, and she knew this herself all too well. Yet, despite that, she couldn't help but feel that anxiousness, that sudden on-the-edge sensation that took hold of her chest and made her sit taut, her back aligned, her fingers wrung together, and her expression passive with a touch of friendly mien.

With a small shake of her head, she tried to disregard it. But even as she finally found her words to say, the dull thud in her chest was still there. "I know it's not all that helpful for me to point it out, but… it's a bit necessary to consider how you feel about Katie before you consider what present to get her, isn't it?"

He furrowed his brows. "Katie's a good friend. But I can't just get her a simple robe or nice shirt. And getting her something like a necklace or bracelet is overstepping that boundary a bit, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be so trivial, Oliver," she smiled faintly. "And it doesn't have to be of the utmost extremes like a ring or necklace either. Just… think of something she finds important—something _she_ finds significant, even if it seems like the littlest of things. Anything will do just fine."

"She likes Quidditch." He grinned when she gave him a pointed look. "But I reckon that's out of the question."

"Keep thinking."

"She likes reading and writing," he said after a moment of thought.

"What about a book? Or maybe a writing journal?"

"I remember Angie and Alicia saying they bought her something like that themselves."

Nina pursed her lips and leant forward, cradling her chin into the palm of her hand as she thought aloud, "Is there anything she has that you can add onto? Like… a collection of sorts? Or maybe… something you can give her that she could put on display and such?"

Oliver chuckled. "Like knick-knacks?"

"Yes, like knick-knacks. Girls like knick-knacks, you know."

"She isn't the type to put things on display unless it really means something to her. And she isn't exactly the collecting type either, lass."

"Hmm…" Her well of ideas was slowly waning. "What's something she has that's really important to her? Is there… something she treasures deeply?"

"Treasures… You mean like a family heirloom or the likes?"

"She has one?"

"If you can call it that. Her ma gave her a golden necklace when she was sorted into Gryffindor. She hardly ever takes that off. And her gran left her a bracelet when she passed away. She always wears it during our Quidditch matches as a type of good luck. It kinda looks like yours, but there's a lot more things on it."

Nina rose her brows and pulled back the sleeve of her cardigan a bit. A small smile began to surface on her face as tore her eyes from the silver, chain-linked bracelet to meet those chocolate-colored orbs.

"You mean it's a _charm_ bracelet?"

"I s'ppose that's what they're called." Realization struck him instantly and he stared, wide-eyed, at the girl across from him. "Oh fucking brilliant."

She smiled to herself and shook her head as she stood up from her seat and rummaged through her bag. "You would've come up with that gift idea your—"

"Don't worry about it, I'll pay," he offered, already placing a few sickles onto the table when she pulled out her wallet.

"No—Oliver, wait. It's not fair that you—"

"It's fine," he affirmed in the familiar tone that deemed no tolerance for protest. "It's the least I could do for you coming with me today, Nina."

"I…" He quirked a brow, ready to refuse her insistence, which only made her sigh and smile weakly at him. "Alright. Thank you then."

With her bag full of their shrunken charm-induced purchases in hand, Nina waited for Oliver as he pocketed his wallet and wand into his jacket and soon they were ready to leave. But a thought crossed the Gryffindor Captain's mind as they neared the door that led out to the cobblestone streets. He reached out to grab her hand and almost flinched at the cold sensation that met with his skin. A frown almost made way on his face, but he quickly dismissed the notion when warm brown eyes met his once more.

"I just wanted to thank you," he started to say after seeing the flicker of confusion resurfacing about her features. "For coming with me to Hogsmeade and all. I'm not quite sure what I would've done without your help, so… thanks."

"N… No problem," she smiled up at him.

His hand slid out of hers and she felt remnants of heat lingering at the tips of her fingers. Slowly, she pulled the sleeves of her thick cardigan further down into the palm of her hands and smiled in thanks as Oliver held the door open for her.

"We should hurry though," she said as he closed the door behind him. "It's almost curfew. If we miss the carriages then it'll be a long cold walk back up to the Castle."

A shiver went down her spine at the thought—or at the fact that it was starting to snow again; she wasn't quite sure, seeing as how both were rather unfavorable at that moment. But Oliver seemed to have noticed and took off the dark grey scarf hanging loosely around his shoulders.

"A bit cold now, isn't it?" he commented as he wrapped it around her neck. "You didn't even bring a scarf or cap with you today, lass."

"I didn't think I needed one today," she murmured apologetically. "It was sunny this morning, so I thought it wasn't necessary."

"You can borrow mine for now," he said as he pulled the collar of his jacket closer to his neck. "C'mon. Let's just get Katie's present and head back to the carriages. I'm freezing my arse off."

A soft laugh left her lips and she gave another tug to the sleeve of his jacket, leading them down the main street of Hogsmeade once more. But the warmth that seeped down to her bones was rather unmistakable. Though, she reasoned it down to the scarf that smelled exactly like him—that natural earthy scent that reminded her of rolling knolls and crisp open air mixed impeccably well like some faint trace of cologne. Surely, it was the scarf that brought her that sudden warmth and comfort. And the familiar calloused hand that wrapped cordially around hers had nothing to do with that.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 622/2015_


	10. Chapter 10

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 – A Gryffindor At Best<strong>

* * *

><p><em>All applications are due by December 31st.<em>

A quiet sigh left Nina's lips as her eyes skimmed over each letter and word on the parchment in front of her. Every calligraphic curve and stroke, every period and dash was under her scrutiny. Yet they all seemed to have only meshed together in incoherent blocks of nonsensical gibberish in her mind.

_Professor McGonagall has been nice enough to collect the applications of those who wish to send it in before the holiday break._

With her wand in hand, she gave a flick of her wrist and watched as the parchment was torn to shreds, falling into a small pile atop the table like crisp autumn leaves. She was neither satisfied nor unsatisfied. She was uncomfortable; both with the thought of being in either one state or the other.

She was indecisive.

_I will collect any and all completed applications this week and will personally submit them no later than the 19th._

The pile of torn parchment was her guilt, and the longer she stared at it, the longer that guilt permeated her conscience. She never lasted more than a few seconds before raising her wand, muttering a word, and watching as the parchment became whole again. Every calligraphic word and letter became legible, and for a few minutes her eyes skimmed over them with a renewed sense of meaning. Only seconds later, it would become the same curve and stroke and period and dash that lost significance in the English language.

_If you wish to send them in on your own time, you are more than welcomed to. However, it is best to submit them in early to avoid last-minute complications._

She had been sitting in the empty Gryffindor common room, repeating this process for Merlin knows how long. Her black oxfords were off, her legs were tucked underneath her, and her chin rested in the palm of her hand as she stared at the parchment with a conflicted glare in her eyes.

_**St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
>Application for Summer 1994 Healer Apprenticeship Admissions<strong>_

It was difficult for her to pick up a quill or pen and just write her own full name on the application.

_Nina Edeline Fey._

How difficult was it to write those three words?

She fell back into the plush crimson couch with a sigh.

"Dammit…"

Since the beginning of the week, Nina had found herself in a deadlocked stupor. The announcement of the Healer's apprenticeships had been repeated numerous times by each of her professors, though it didn't help with decision making in anyway. If anything, it made her feel as though time had pressured her into some form of submission. And, essentially, that was the case.

Before she could even think of raising her wand again, the bell rang and dismissed her contemplations. She glanced down at her wristwatch and stood up, sliding her oxfords on and gathering her satchel. Her stomach growled at the mere idea of food and she smiled slightly to herself, thankful that Wednesdays were her slowest days out of the week, with only one class in the morning and another in the later afternoon.

She had plenty of time on her hands that day, which primarily led to the mental debate that she had magically taken out on the blank application form. But it was—for that moment, at least—something she pushed aside into a dark corner of her mind, ready to tackle on some later date in time.

The Great Hall was slowly coming to life as more students arrived for lunch. Nina walked towards the Gryffindor table, greeting the few familiar faces that passed her with a smile and small wave, and settled for a spot beside her lone friend.

"Hey, Alex."

She placed her satchel down beside her and caught a glimpse of the smile he sent her way.

"Beat you to the Great Hall for once, eh Fey?"

She rolled her eyes lightheartedly and began to nibble on a croissant. "I didn't realize that it was a contest now. But if that's how it is, then you're on."

He chuckled along with her and turned his attention back to the parchment laid out in front of him. "We'll see about that then."

Curiously, she looked over his shoulder to take a peek at what he was working on. But she only needed to see the turquoise emblem imprinted at the top of the page to realize what it was. If anything, though, she was more surprised than annoyed to be thinking of such a thing again.

"You're applying for the Healer's apprenticeship as well?"

"That appears to be the case, doesn't it?" he grinned as he showed her his application for a brief moment.

She blinked and swallowed her bite of croissant. "Sorry, I'm… just a bit surprised. I didn't realize that you wanted to be a Healer."

"To be honest, I never really considered being one until this year. My mum's a Healer at St. Mungo's, you see. She's taken me in a number of times this past summer to help her and her colleagues out here and there. Even picked up a couple of Healing spells to show for it," he gave a nonchalant shrug, but Nina could tell that he took pride in his feat, which only made her smile.

"I didn't know your mum was a Healer," she said as she bit into her croissant. Seconds later, though, she sent him a confused glance. "But wait, I thought… I mean—I know that you're… But I don't—"

"Relax, Nina. I get what you wanna ask." The gleam of amusement in his deep blue eyes didn't go unnoticed. "I am a Muggleborn and all, but I'm adopted. My mum and dad are wizard folk though. Mum's a Healer, like I said, and Dad works for the Ministry. They aren't related to me by blood, but they've been my Mum and Dad since I was a little bugger. Can't see them as anything else, really."

Slowly, she nodded her head. "I see."

"Don't look so dismal, Nina," he joked as he shook her shoulder gently. "It's not like you had anything to do with what happened when I was a baby."

"I know. But, still… that was rather rude of me earlier. I'm sorry about that, Alex."

He snorted. "_You_? Being rude? Those words shouldn't even be allowed in the same sentence together. Besides, it's not like you knew about me being adopted. Curiosity isn't rude. Well… when it's _your _curiosity, at least. Mine can be a bit off-putting at times, I'll admit…"

Nina smiled to herself and felt relieved to see that he wasn't the least bit offended. Blood heritage was never the most comfortable of conversation starters for anyone, especially Nina—and especially after what happened in the beginning of the school year. But she quickly shook her head to rid the memory.

Wanting to change the conversation to something more lighter in topics, she took a sip of her pumpkin juice and asked, thoroughly interested, "What made you think of being a Healer?"

At this, Alex sighed and scratched the back of his head in thought.

"There's no… _boundaries_ when it comes to Healing. It's completely different from the Ministry. Or anywhere else for that matter. Every person there is treated equally—regardless of blood, regardless of species, regardless of age. And all the Healers that I've met so far are honestly good people. Absolutely brilliant with a wand. Using magic to help others, constantly learning new things and constantly being challenged—that kinda life sounds pretty damn good to me, so I figured 'why not?'"

"That's great," she uttered, her disbelief now melding into pride. "Healing's an amazing career, Alex. If you get accepted, I'm sure you'll be a brilliant Healer as well. You've got the marks in class to prove it. And I can tell you're more than ready for the training."

"How so?"

She smiled. "You sounded really passionate about it just now. Like how Oliver gets when he talks about Quidditch. That sort of innate love and drive for it, you know? I can sense it in both of you."

"Merlin, if you're comparing me to Wood then I'm definitely applying for the apprenticeship now," he laughed.

At this, though, she tilted her head to the side after taking another bite of her croissant. "You _weren't_ going to apply?"

"Well… I had doubts, of course. The admissions for St. Mungo's is bloody competitive. There's only about fifteen or so positions that well over a hundred of wizards and witches are vying for. And from what my mum told me, a good number of them are from different parts of the globe as well."

Hearing those words were heavy, unsettling even. But despite this, Alex sighed once more and shrugged his shoulders. Almost as if he were shrugging off the insurmountable pressure that came with such facts like they were nothing but simple stray flecks of lint.

"I reckon my apprehension is a bit understandable though. But after hearing what you just said now, I'm all the more certain. Besides, if I have this passion for Healing then what's to stop me from following it, eh?" A soft laugh bubbled in the back of her throat when he ruffled her bangs. "Thanks for the pep-talk, Fey."

"No problem," she murmured quietly, smoothing out the strands of hair she felt were askew.

As they sat there in a peaceful silence, Nina continued to absentmindedly eat her plate of food. Yet she found herself confronting the very thing she told herself to ignore.

At that exact moment, she was the opposite of Alex. She was indecisive, yes—but mostly due to her fear. It was rather ironic, of course. A Gryffindor hesitating out of fear? Almost unheard of. But, regardless, this time she honestly felt her fears were properly placed. After graduation, she was lost. Nina Fey—the one who has a good head about her shoulders, a good sense of who she was and what she wanted to be—was rendered to an absolute mess when thinking of the day after the 18th of June.

The considerations of 'what if' scared her much more than the reality of 'what will'. Possibility—perhaps that was what frightened her more. The possibility of staying the UK over the possibility of staying in the US—there was no win-win situation within her circumstances. Eventually, in that moment of silent contemplation to herself, she came to terms with the fact that she _wanted_ to stay in England, to stay where she was. But she also felt that she _needed_ to go back to California, to her only family there, to the people who needed her.

…_if I have this passion for Healing then what's to stop me from following it, eh?_

Alex's words cycled through her mind, and she came to realize she was too focused on those possibilities of 'what if'. She was so fixated on that fear that it crippled her from properly thinking, properly behaving. It made her feel like she was suffocating—and from her own rationale, no less.

Merlin, did she wanted to stop thinking—to stop wondering and pondering and mentally debating. For once in a very long while, she wanted to actually just _do_.

But quite frankly, the only person who stopped her from doing that was Nina Fey herself.

**— ~ —**

Like many times in the past on Thursday afternoons, Nina walked down the all-too-familiar corridors and stepped through the school infirmary's doors.

The smell of clean linen and sanitary magic filled her nostrils and, subconsciously, she smiled. It was rather pleasant to be in the infirmary at high noon, when the sun reigning down upon the tall glass windows reached its peak and flooded the entire room with a comforting warm glow. She let out a content sigh at the thought and placed her satchel on the chair beside the door, as she usually did. As she unwrapped the scarlet-and-gold scarf around her neck, she walked into the elderly matron's office and smiled in greeting when she caught the old witch's pale blue gaze.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fey."

"Is there anything you need help with today, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Oh no, no. Everything is in fine order. With everyone getting ready for the holiday break next week, things have been rather slow. Thank you for the offer of help though, dearie."

"Of course," she said as she walked over to the water basin across the room, already washing her hands even though there wasn't a need to that day. It seems that it had become a conditioned response after spending the past two years helping the school matron. Healers never did a thing until they washed their hands.

"Although… I do have a question for you, Miss Fey," Madam Pomfrey began to say as she looked up from the stack of parchment in front of her.

"Hm?"

"What is this I heard about you not applying to St. Mungo's?"

Nina blinked. "How…"

"I have my ways," was her only reply.

"You heard this from Dearest Friend, haven't you?"

"_That_ is not the important question at hand, Miss Fey. Now, out with it then, what's wrong?"

It was no secret that Madam Pomfrey was aware of the exchange of letters between Nina and her anonymous benefactor. In fact, she let it slip one day during her fifth year that she may actually know of Dearest Friend—in that all-knowing and teasing sort of tone that made it obvious that she knew of something.

But since then she had been rather keen on guarding the identity of the unnamed figure that had taken quite a role in Nina's life. Although it didn't sit well with her knowing that information was purposely being held back on her at first, Nina eventually accepted it. Secrets seemed to be a common theme in her life, much to her chagrin.

The Gryffindor exhaled and dried her hands with the wave of her wand. "Nothing's wrong. I was just… hesitating a bit…"

Pomfrey stood up and placed the file in her hands into the drawers beside her desk. "Is it because of the competition?"

"One would think it would be. Over a hundred of witches and wizards all over the globe applying for a program that only has fifteen spots. I almost thought that would make me worried. But to be honest, I don't think that's my deepest concern at the moment…"

"Then it's your family," the matron reasoned in the same knowing tone.

Nina couldn't find it in herself to immediately confirm or deny her words. She only fiddled with her wand, half-heartedly twirling it between her fingers as she contemplated.

"Something like that."

"Have you told your mother you were considering becoming a Healer?"

"Not exactly…"

"And why in Heavens not? She's your mother, dearie."

The teen pursed her lips together as she grew pensive. "Madam Pomfrey… have you ever had a moment where you want to tell someone something, but every opportunity that you've had was the absolute worst in timing?"

"Haven't we all," she sighed. "But nonetheless, Mildred Fey is your mother. And she deserves to know what her daughter plans ahead in her life."

"I'll tell her soon," Nina reassured. "Don't worry."

"I'll hold it to you then," the matron said in finalization.

Nina grew quiet for another moment, letting the thought in her mind ferment and finally materialize into words. "Can I ask you another question, Pomfrey?"

"Of course, dear—anything."

As the aged matron walked towards the water basin, unlocking the cabinet beside it with the flick of her wand, the ebony-haired teen felt a small smirk make way across her face. She leaned closer to the older woman and asked in a quiet, but eager and hopeful voice, "Do you _really_ know who Dearest Friend is?"

"Ha! I had a feeling in my old bones that was the question you had in mind." Pomfrey tapped Nina's nose with the end her wand and pointed at her, saying in a firm, non-threatening manner, "You've been asking me that question since your fifth year."

"And I ask it with the same inquisitive interest every single time," Nina grinned.

"Yes, I've noticed. But you know just as well as I do that some secrets and promises _must _be kept. That question of yours deserves an answer indeed, but it most certainly will not be from me."

"I only asked if you know who Dearest Friend is, ma'am. I never asked who it was specifically."

"Good. Because I cannot, and will not, say a word if you were to ask me who it is."

The Gryffindor bit her lower lip. "Can I know anything about him then?"

"Hm. Well, considering it's your final year, I suppose you can have one hint," Pomfrey said after a second of scrutiny. "The only thing you have to know is that Dearest Friend _truly _has your best interests at heart. I know and have seen it for myself—Dearest Friend treasures you deeply."

Somehow, hearing this gave Nina an odd sense of comfort, a sort of gratified feeling in her bones. It was a nice feeling, to have that sense of protection and love, but the gaps in between were still unsettling. Nevertheless, Nina felt content with the relatively new piece of information.

"Another thing you should know," Pomfrey added soon afterwards. "This Dearest Friend wasn't the slightest bit overjoyed to hear about you not applying to St. Mungo's."

Slowly, Nina felt the corners of her lips curl into a smile. "Actually… about that, Madam Pomfrey. I was wondering if you have any more applications for the Healer's admissions?"

_The one I had yesterday was irreversibly torn to pieces…_ But she didn't voice this thought aloud.

Madam Pomfrey stopped reorganizing her cabinets and glanced at the teen with a gleam of wonder in her blue eyes, to which Nina smiled back in return. Eventually, she saw the mirthful flicker that seemed to have fueled the matron's enthusiastic clap of her hands.

"Merlin! Glad to hear that recommendation letter of mine is going to be put to good use!" She hustled to a bottom drawer in her desk and handed the parchment to the Gryffindor. "The application process is rather simple. But they look at the personal essays from students such as yourself quite closely so it's best to put your best efforts—"

"Madam Pomfrey?" a voice called out from the entranceway.

Both Nina and Pomfrey glanced at one another before walking out of the small office. Standing at the doorway was a young lad—no older than twelve from Nina's guess. And without a doubt a Hufflepuff, judging from the emblem stitched onto his robes.

"Yes? Is something the matter, dear?"

"My Housemate is sick with a flu of sorts. Our Prefect gave him a Pepperup Potion last night but he hasn't gotten any better. And he refuses to come to infirmary. Not that he can in his state, but still…"

"The flu again? Goodness, this makes it the third one this week," the matron fussed as she murmured an _accio_ for her scarf and robes. "I'll be back in a bit, dear. We'll go over your application when I return."

With a curt nod of her head, Nina watched as Madam Pomfrey and the Hufflepuff left the infirmary altogether. Sighing to herself, she sat down on the closest bed, skimming over the application in her hands. This time, however, she wasn't going to tear it to pieces with her wand.

_All applications are due by December 31st_—she remembered her professor's words floating in her mind. _I will collect any and all completed applications this week and will personally submit them not later than the 19th_.

Mentally, she counted down the days and realized Professor McGonagall would send them in that Sunday, meaning there were only two whole days left.

She soon pursed her lips at the thought of the impending deadline.

_Dearest Friend wasn't the slightest bit overjoyed to hear about you not applying to St. Mungo's. _Madame Pomfrey's words began to swirl inside her head, causing her to close her eyes at the mere recollections._ Have you told your mother that you were considering becoming a Healer?_

It had been close to a week since she last wrote to him and her mum, and Merlin knows what was running through their minds when they actually read her letters. She didn't outright say that she would no longer consider the apprenticeship to Dearest Friend; nor did she tell her mum her true intentions for wanting to stay in the UK. But she did mention her strong doubts about it all—about her future, especially, to them both.

Sitting there, she began to muse about Dearest Friend once more. Perhaps he was outraged when reading about her qualms and hesitations. Or, perhaps, he had taken her current circumstances into consideration. Whatever the case, it didn't stop her worry of disappointing him.

He was, without a doubt, one of the people who strongly supported her initial aspirations to become a Healer besides Madam Pomfrey, and even Professor McGonagall. Being Head of House gave the Transfiguration professor the chance to talk to sixth and seventh year Gryffindors alike about their careers in the very near future, and she certainly knew of what Nina Fey wished to pursue.

But the recollection of such realities made her frown—only for reasons even she wasn't quite sure of.

She stood up abruptly and disregarded her previous ponderings of Dearest Friend and his peculiar enigma, disregarded Madam Pomfrey's instruction of staying in the hospital wing until her return. With her satchel in one hand and her application in the other, Nina left the infirmary altogether.

She knew what she wanted to do.

**— ~ —**

"Alright so we haven't forgotten anything, have we?" Lizzie asked as they left the Great Hall. "Last chance before we leave."

"We double checked."

"Three times."

"Just wanted to be sure," the caramel-haired teen smiled as she readjusted the turquoise-colored scarf around her neck. "We can always double back and get something if we need to. We can't exactly do that in about five minutes from now."

"Don't worry so much, Lizzie," Nina laughed as she gave a reassuring pat to her friend's arm. "We've got everything we need. It isn't all that much, really."

"If you say so," she sighed as she picked up her bag from the ground.

"You girls ready, then?"

Nina turned around and rose her brows at the two taller Gryffindors standing before her, both with bags and rucksacks in hand and promptly attired in warm clothes for their trek to Hogsmeade.

"Let's go then!" Lizzie nodded as she tugged at Alex and Fee's arms, already leading them to the Entrance Hall.

The ebony-haired teen only turned to the brunette beside her, who simply stared after their friends with a gleam of amusement in his dark eyes.

"I didn't know you and Alex were gonna come with us today, Oliver."

They started to trail behind their friends when he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Considering that me and Lizzie live down the street from one another, I reckon it'd make sense that I tag along for a bit."

At this, Nina stalled in her place and blinked repeatedly. "You two are neighbors?"

"For the past two years or so, yeah. Lizzie never told you?"

"Ah… no, not yet. I mean, I know she moved homes but she didn't tell me that you're her neighbor." A thought came to her mind and she gave a lighthearted smack to his arm. "And _you_ didn't tell me either. You've listened to me gush on about spending the holidays at Lizzie's home and you didn't even mention you lived nearby!"

"You never asked," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head, readjusting the dark grey scarf around her neck as a cold draft sent a shiver down her spine. The group of friends started down the stairs of the Entrance Hall, continuing on with their good-humored conversations. A thought crossed Fee's mind and she turned to her friend with an inquisitive expression about her face.

"Lizzie, just how well are your Apparting skills? Considering the fact that it's gonna be me _and_ Nina Apparating with you, after all?"

"I can Apparate just fine, mind you," Lizzie harrumphed. "I got my license for it last year, you know. 'Course I haven't tried Side-Along Apparition too much. And I wouldn't fully recommend Apparating the three of us now for trial-and-error's sake. But I can make two trips. One of you will just have to wait for a few seconds."

"Wha— Two trips?" Fee sputtered. "And what's this 'I haven't tried Side-Along Apparition too much' business?"

Lizzie patted the petite blonde by her arm and smiled. "Relax, Fee! You're in good hands. If it makes you feel any better, you can be the first one I take. Unless Nina says otherwise, of course."

But said Gryffindor only shook her head and laughed. "No, it's fine. As long as you don't forget about me completely then I'm fine with waiting a bit."

"I can take you, if you want," Oliver offered. "It beats the hell out of waiting in the cold. In case Lizzie really does forget about you, that is."

"Oi!" Lizzie gave a jab at his arm, though it only caused him to grin and feign hurt. "I wouldn't _forget_ about anyone. Especially not my best friend. But… as much as I think my plan is perfectly fine, I suppose Wood's isn't that much of a bad idea either…"

"If… that's okay with Oliver, then I'm fine with it," Nina got out hesitantly.

"Alright, it's settled then," Alex announced finally. "Bleedin' HELL it's cold!"

They approached the grand double doors that lead to the outside of the castle and they already began to bundle up after feeling the cold air nip at their exposed skin. Nina murmured a warming charm upon herself and pocketed her wand before buttoning up her thick dark red coat.

"Everything alright, lass?" Oliver asked as he donned a warming charm upon himself as well.

She gave a meek smile and nodded her head. Both Gryffindors fell into step behind their friends and they stepped through the open entrance along with the few crowds of other students. But the color of dark green robes caught the corner of Nina's eye and she stalled once more in her footsteps.

"Hold on a sec," she said, grabbing Oliver's arm to stop him as well.

The Gryffindor Captain watched curiously as she began to rummage through her bag for a moment before walking off to the small group of students beside the stone pillars of the entryway. Oliver made sure their friends weren't too far ahead and sure enough, they had stopped a short distance away as well, watching the ebony-haired teen with matching curiosity and confusion.

But none of them were aware of the heavy thumps that pounded against Nina's chest as she approached the familiar older witch, nor did they know of the partial doubts she harbored as she waited.

Professor McGonagall accepted the permission slips and names of the small group of Hufflepuffs and they were soon off on their way to Hogsmeade. Her emerald green eyes caught sight of the teen now standing in front of her, and once again surprise had broken through her usually austere expression.

"Miss Fey," she greeted politely. "I believe I've already taken your name as one of those who will be leaving the Hogwarts Castle this year. Is there something you wish to speak about?"

"Yes, Professor," Nina nodded. She extended her arm and offered her the file she held in her hands, smiling faintly as she did so. "I wanted to turn into my application for the Healer's Apprenticeship. If it's not too late, that is. You… said that you would be submitting them by tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course." Professor McGonagall took the file and eyed the teen seriously. "I trust everything is intact and accounted for in this application?"

"Yes, ma'am. Everything is there—my application, my essay, my scores on the prereq exams, and even Madam Pomfrey's recommendation letter."

"I see. Then yes, that is everything. Rest assured, I will submit this along with the others tomorrow."

"Thank you Professor," she smiled with a grateful nod, and with that all said and done, Nina turned to rejoin her friends. But stopped a few steps short when she heard her Transfiguration professor speak once more.

"I'm glad to see you've decided to follow through with the admissions, Miss Fey," McGonagall said as she tucked the file under her parchment full of names. "I hope they consider you for the apprenticeship at St. Mungo's."

"T-Thank you," Nina said meekly. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she gave a short wave good-bye. "Merry Christmas, Professor McGonagall."

"Merry Christmas, Miss Fey," the elder witch said with a faint twitch of her lips, almost alluding to a slight smile for the briefest of moments. But for Nina, that was more than enough to bring up her spirits for the day.

"Turned in your application for the apprenticeship, have you?"

"Finally, huh?" she sighed.

"I had a feeling you'd come to it eventually," Oliver said with a faint grin.

Professor McGonagall watched as the small group of Gryffindors walked out into the courtyard and soon flicked her gaze to the file in her hands. Carefully, she opened it and began to review the application filled out in Nina's neat and cursive handwriting, nodding in satisfaction at seeing the completed entries and the thoughtfully written essay. And alongside that was a copy of her marks and exam scores, as well as a commendation letter written and signed by Poppy Pomfrey herself.

Minerva McGonagall soon smiled to herself as she closed the file and tucked it under her list of names and check-marks, waiting patiently for any more students who sought to leave for a trip to Hogsmeade.

But as she waited, she couldn't help but feel the swell of pride in her chest that created a much more pleasant, almost kindly, air about the older witch. The application in her hands was the proof that finally laid her doubts and unease to rest after all these years.

Nina Fey was most certainly a Gryffindor at best.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	11. Chapter 11

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 – Misplaced, Displaced<strong>

* * *

><p>Nina shifted to her side, snuggling into the comfort of a plush pink pillow and taking in the scent of clean linen. The white duvet covering her body was a bit softer than she was used to, as was the bed she laid in. It was rather foreign, though by no means unpleasant.<p>

She laid there for a bit longer, but even with her eyes closed she could feel the sunlight peeking through the drapes, tickling her exposed cool cheeks. It took her a moment to rouse her mind from its groggy state, but she soon blinked back the bleary distortions and allowed her gaze focus on the room she found herself in. White panels that trimmed the walls coated in a very pale but subtle mint color, light silk draperies, and various furnishings in deep maple hues—it was rather lovely, she thought; and most certainly chosen by a feminine touch.

Sitting up in her bed, she rubbed the last of the grittiness from her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock atop the nightstand to her left.

7:49. Rather early, especially for Nina.

Yawning quietly, she pushed off the white duvet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into her brown slippers on the floor. It didn't surprise her to see Felicia in the similar twin-sized bed beside hers, still lost in her dream world. Her honey-blonde locks had splayed behind her and peeked out of the white duvet she had pulled over her head, and for a moment Nina could hear quiet snores as she walked past. The ebony-haired teen simply smiled to herself as she closed the door quietly behind her and headed for the bathroom.

The Bennet home was much lovelier than Nina first imagined. It was by no means a mansion, nor was it a simple flat situated in the middle of busy Muggle London. It was much larger than the average English cottage with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an ample amount of space to accommodate the four-membered family, but nevertheless it held the charming and quaint air that she loved about English cottages—and about wizarding homes especially.

Immediately from the staircase was the relatively spacious living room. The walls were a much warmer crème color and white picture windows flanked the French doors in the corner of the room. On the opposite wall was the large stone fireplace with its mantel ornamented with picture frames of moving photos and little knick-knacks. Well-apt furniture was laid throughout the room, with only a few pieces that were rather mismatched. But it was lived-in, in a sense; it was comfortable and inviting—something she liked best of all.

She could hear someone opening and closing drawers as she drew close to the kitchen and a pair of voices drifted into the air, conversing in casual tones. Stepping into the kitchen, Nina caught sight of mother and daughter, side-by-side, as they continued to chat and prepare breakfast.

Cecille and Lizzie Bennet were without a doubt mother and daughter. Though they differ in height—with Lizzie being a few good inches taller than the petite older witch—they shared the same shade of thick caramel locks and high cheekbones, along with a peculiarly identical twitch of their lips when they grinned at a comment or joke. It was rather enlightening to Nina to see such strong resemblance between family members—it was the first time in quite a while that she noticed it herself.

For a moment, she wondered about her own mother back home—about what their plans were for the holidays and how they celebrated this time of year—but she quickly shook her head to rid the sudden twinge of homesickness that struck her.

"Good morning."

Lizzie and Cecille cut their discussion short and smiled back at the newcomer, one offering their greeting through a good-natured 'good morning' and the other through a more energetic 'morning!'

The caramel-haired teen offered her friend a mug of tea, which was accepted with utmost gratefulness. Both girls settled on the stools of the island table, warm mugs of peppermint tea—a particular favorite of Nina's—in hand and a delightful feeling of comfort settling into their bones. It was rather nice to wake up and enjoy a morning in an actual home for once.

"Have you been up long?"

"Not for too long. Just a bit before you, I suspect."

"Does that mean you were gonna make breakfast for us then?" Nina grinned as she took another sip of her tea.

"You'd love to see that, wouldn't you?" Lizzie laughed. "Last time I did, I almost burned down the house, so I think it's best that we leave the cooking to my mum. Or anyone besides me, for that matter."

Nina held back a laugh when Cecille turned to them and nodded her head in agreement with the most earnest look about her face. "Lizzie is wonderful at giving a helping hand, but I'm a bit more cautious letting her cook after that little stunt last summer."

"You told me it was okay to make dinner that night," Lizzie shrugged as she fiddled with the handle of her ceramic mug.

"Yes, but I intended you use the stove and oven, not magic."

"The roasted beef got cooked the same way," Lizzie turned her head and smiled sheepishly at her friend as she whispered to her, "a little bit more emphasis on the 'roasted' part but still…"

With the mug to her lips, Nina muffled another laugh and savored the warmth that she could feel all the way down to her toes.

"Oh! Mum, you should let Nina make her cinnamon rolls for breakfast sometime. Y'know the ones I told you about? They're _incredibly_ good," she emphasized her last words with a slightly dreamy look in her eyes, which apparently made the growl in her stomach that much more pronounced.

"Absolutely," Cecille said without hesitation as she placed a plate of bacon and pancakes onto the island table, much to Lizzie's delight. She turned to Nina to pat her hand before going back to the frying pan of scrambled eggs. "Gives me a bit of a break from breakfast duty—I'd be a bit mad if I were to refuse you!"

"Only if it's not too much trouble," Nina insisted with a faint smile, nodding in thanks when Lizzie placed a plate in front of her. "I mean, I made cookies last night, so I hope I didn't impose in any way."

"Oh, no such thing!" the older witch said with a subtle wave of her hands. "You're more than welcomed to this kitchen—to this home, even. You and Felicia are practically like family to us now with the letters and stories Lizzie have sent over the years."

Nina smiled, more humbled than anything else, and nodded.

With that aside, she began to help herself to a small stack of pancakes and munched on a strip of bacon. Lizzie was still out of her seat, rummaging through the large antique icebox that rested along the farther wall of the kitchen. Noticing this, Nina slid out of her own seat, ready to offer her assistance in any way, but the sound of an abrupt loud crack broke the three witches out of their train of thoughts.

Cecille began to scoop the batch of scrambled eggs out of the pan when she glanced at Nina and smiled sheepishly at her.

"Nina, could you be a dear and see who popped in just now?"

The ebony-haired teen simply nodded her head and turned around to head out of the archway of the kitchen. Within a few seconds, she was back in the quaint living room, once again marveling at the foreign but homely presence it had given her. But as her gaze met familiar chocolate colored orbs, she smiled and felt a particular sense of contentment settle back into the crevices of her mind.

"Do you know who's here, Liz?" Cecille asked her daughter after a moment had passed.

Lizzie placed the pitcher of orange juice beside the plates of food on the island and smiled into her words: "It's Oliver. I heard him just now."

Cecille Bennet was never a woman who was took much pleasure in gossip. It was entertaining, of course, but after a while it grew rather monotonous. A he-said-she-said of moments, usually, and from the most unreliable (which actually turns out to be rather reliable in some cases) of sources that spreads either lies, truths, or some ridiculous form of a median in between. She found such inconsistencies in stories distasteful at times.

But for that moment, she took no shame into inquiring about something that had relatively no inkling to do with her. Regardless of half-lies or half-truths.

"Is there something going on between those two?"

Lizzie chuckled at her mother's masked eagerness and took a seat at the island table once more.

"From what I can tell, there's nothing whatsoever. Me and Fee suspected the same thing at first, but Nina says she only sees Oliver as a friend. And Alex says it's likewise for Oliver."

"Oh. Friend, is it?" Cecille wondered aloud as her eyes flicked over to the archway. "Is that what you kids call it nowadays?"

"Mum," Lizzie's tone matched the same pitch Cecille would use, that same cautious yet warning tone that wavered between reprimand and curiosity.

"It's just a shame, is all!" justified the older witch. "Nina's grown into quite the lovely young witch over the years. And Oliver's certainly a strapping young chap. They're both free of current commitments, are they not?"

"Mum, I'm pretty sure if Nina and Oliver really wanted to be together then they would have by now."

"I suppose," Cecille sighed. "But I think they would be lovely together. Merlin knows that Oliver Wood needs a girl to distract him from Quidditch for once. And Nina deserves to meet a nice boy. Poor girl. From what you told me, she really did fancy that one boy, didn't she? Felicia's brother? Oh Merlin, what was his name again, Liz? It started with an 'N' didn't it? Na—"

"Yes, Mum—you're absolutely right," Lizzie interjected in a rather robust tone. "I will not cook anymore dinners. At least not for a while anyway."

Cecille stared at her daughter oddly, suddenly at a loss for words for her abrupt outburst of nonsense. But before she could express such concerns, she heard a voice emerge from the entryway of the kitchen and allowed her train of thought to diminish quickly.

"Merlin, you two are still going on about that?" Nina asked with a lighthearted laugh.

Lizzie sighed, though it was more in a faint theatrical manner that only her mum was aware of, and shrugged her small shoulders. "Mum's pretty adamant about it now since we brought it up earlier."

"Oh! Oliver, dear. Nice to see you again," Cecille gave him a usual peck on the cheek in greeting and motioned to the platters of food before them. "Will you be staying for breakfast this morning? Surely you must! Here—go on, dig in. A Gryffindor Captain has to eat, doesn't he?"

"Err…" He glanced over at Nina who wore a knowing expression that was hidden into her bite of eggs. She was quite spot on about Cecille Bennet's tendencies of stuffing her guests full with food, even if they were visiting for a moment. It was one of the first things she found out herself, after all.

"I suppose I could stay for a bit," he relented, taking the plate Lizzie offered him with a nod in thanks.

"Here, take a seat Wood," Lizzie slid off the stool beside Nina and placed her nearly-clean plate in the sink. "I was gonna go wake up Fee anyways. Be back in a bit."

Lizzie gave her mother a little wink as she walked past, unbeknownst to the pair of teens in the room who went on with their meals and quiet conversations. And soon enough Cecille cleared her throat and placed her mug of half-finished tea onto the counter.

"You two finish up your breakfasts. It's best that I wake up Arnold as well. We have a bit of a busy day ahead of us, don't we?"

With that, the fair older witch smiled and left the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder for a fleeting moment and holding in a hearty chuckle as she ascended up the stairs. Nina stared at the archway with subtle, but nonetheless curious, furrow of her brows. But she soon thought nothing of it and continued to finish her half-eaten pancakes.

"I take it you girls have plans today?" Oliver asked.

Nina nodded her head, smiling at the very thought. "We're going to one of the wizarding shopping areas nearby. Privy Alley, is it…?"

Oliver chuckled. "Close. Pivot Alley."

"Pivot Alley," she echoed quietly, reaffirming it in her mind once more. "The only shopping areas I've been to in the UK is Diagon Alley, so I'm kinda excited about going somewhere different. Would you want to come along…"

She soon trailed off with her words once she saw the apologetic look surfacing across his features; and with it, her realization of the situation.

"Ah, right, you… mentioned you were leaving soon? When are you getting back?"

"After Christmas at least," he said with a nod, pushing his now empty plate away from him. "Most of my family's gonna come over to my uncle's house down near Glasgow so we'll be staying with him and my aunt for a bit."

"Rather enthusiastic, aren't you?" she commented jokingly.

But at this, he gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, well, Uncle Gillian's got three young lads that are half my age and a newborn baby girl. Not exactly the epitome of quiet at his house, but what can I say?"

Nina patted his shoulder gently and offered a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"Hopefully. But you know how family can get when they're all mix together."

"I can imagine."

He smirked. "Haven't had a room of overzealous uncles that tipped the firewhiskey bottle one too many times?"

"No, but I bet it'd be an interesting sight to see. My family's really small so wild moments like that don't come up too often."

"Really?"

She held up three fingers and counted off. "Me, my mum, and a step-dad. Rather small, isn't it?"

He nodded, though he couldn't quite think of what to say. He tapped his glass of orange juice absentmindedly, lost in thought, before glancing in her direction once more. "Do you wish you could spend the holidays with them? Back in the States?"

"When I was younger. But… I'm okay with it now. Really," she insisted with a lighthearted laugh after seeing the slight purse of his lips.

"You don't miss your parents?"

"I miss home," she said after a moment of quiet. "I miss my family and friends there. But despite that, I'm okay here. I'm happy."

"That's the more important thing then," he relented with a nod.

"I've always thought so. And even then, I'm not alone this year," she pointed out with a rather optimistic smile. "I have Lizzie and Fee here. And Cecille and Arnold and even Michael. And technically, even you. Though, you do live down the street—but you still count."

Oliver felt the corners of his lips twitch, alluding to another faint smile about his face. But he said nothing; only placed a warm hand on her upper arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was never quite good at sympathizing with girls much, but his actions seemed rather second-nature to him at that moment.

Subconsciously, he began to rub small circles into the thick pink fabric of her sweater with his thumb. It was such a simple gesture, done without much thought or reason or meaning behind it, yet she found it to be more comforting than she first imagined—relaxing, even. She smiled absentmindedly at the thought.

"I should probably get going," said the Gryffindor Captain, breaking the girl from her moment of reverie. "We're supposed to leave once I got back. Any longer and my Ma and Da might just have a bloody fit."

His hand had long left her arm, though she almost felt as if there was a faint warmth that she could still feel lingering about. But she quickly dismissed the thought—thinking it was nothing but silly musings brought about by her imagination—and slid off her stool with her and Oliver's empty plates in hand to place them in the sink.

"Your presents," she called out to him.

Oliver nodded. "I left 'em on the coffee table."

Nina led the way into the living room and caught sight of the large Christmas bag of presents that Oliver had brought with him. She placed it beside the others under the Bennets' decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and turned her attention back to her friend.

"You have everything, then?" she asked as he shrugged back into his black coat.

"Pretty sure."

He got the paper Christmas bag she had charmed earlier to fit all the Woods' presents and double-checked himself to see if he'd forgotten anything.

"I guess I'll see you later then," she said with a meek smile.

He gave a small smile of his own and nodded his head. Without much thought beforehand, Nina wrapped her arms around the tall brunette in warm, tight hug. It caught Oliver off-guard, to say the least, which was quite apparent from how his muscles tensed slightly from the sudden embrace. But as he heard a quiet 'Merry Christmas' murmured into the thick fabric of his coat, the reality of the situation sunk in. He smiled imperceptibly to himself and rubbed her back gently.

"Merry Christmas," was all he said as they parted from one another, to which she smiled in response.

With a loud crack resonating in the lone room and her usual wave in parting, Nina was left standing in her place. A wistful pang struck her as she stood there, but the sentiment soon dispersed without a thought. She exhaled softly and turned around to head for the stairs, only to stop short at the sight of bright cerulean eyes staring up at her.

"Oh. Morning, Michael."

The youngest of the Bennet family shared many traits of his mother and father. Physically, he had the dark caramel locks and deep cerulean eyes of his mother, though he had a streak of blunt cheekiness that he had shared with his father—something Nina found out herself at that moment.

"You fancy Wood, don't you?" asked the younger boy, grinning a grin that Nina could've sworn she's seen on Lizzie one too many times in the past. Though, she was still reeling in his words at that moment to fully comprehend it herself.

"I… fancy Oliver?" she chuckled weakly and shook her head. "No, it's not like that."

"Then Wood fancies you?"

She shook her head once more, ruffling his short dark locks as she walked past him. "I highly doubt that, Mikey."

Slightly miffed but much more resilient, the boy flattened his hair back into place and opened his mouth to utter another retort. But he was rendered to a small pout and silence when he saw the older teen already half-way up the stairs, lost in her own ponderings.

Nina exhaled once more, ignoring the heavy ache in her chest as she headed back to the guest room. A wry smile played across her lips and she laughed quietly to herself, ruffling her bangs in an attempt to deny the deep flush she felt in her cheeks.

The question was becoming more common than she was comfortable with.

**— ~ —**

Pivot Alley was considered one of the more vital wizarding centres in the Scottish Highlands, located within a Muggle city that Nina didn't quite catch—though, she did remember Lizzie saying that it wasn't too far from Loch Ness. It wasn't necessarily as expansive or as chaotic as London's Diagon Alley. But it has certainly seen its days of hustle and bustle with its quaint and simple shops, cafes, and emporiums. During the holiday season, especially, it was rather hectic in its own right.

As they crossed a bridge to reach one of the main streets, Nina was awestruck at seeing the quaint waterfront scenary of River Ness. She wondered how such a feat could be made possible since Muggles could pass by quite easily on the other side of the shores, but from what Cecille and Arnold explained ambiguity enchantments and concealment charms were a bit of a specialty amongst the owners of the shops and homes within Pivot Alley.

It was rather clever, she thought.

"Alright, girls. We'll meet back at the fountain in front of the Trinity Inn by 4 o'clock. Lizzie? Did you hear me?" questioned Arnold Bennet, tugging at the back of his daughter's grey coat to get her attention as he and his wife trailed behind the three teens.

"Dad, you worry too much!" Lizzie sighed, though in a playful manner more than anything else. "We're big girls now. It's not like we'll get taken by some old hag down the street with a trail of bread crumbs or something."

"Depending on which part of Pivot Alley you're in, that may very well be a possibility," the older wizard muttered under his breath.

"Arnold," Cecille gave a half-hearted strike to his arm with her hand. "Don't over-exaggerate!"

Arnold Bennet was by no means a father who doubted his daughter or her abilities as a witch. He was actually quite proud of his eldest child for her talent in magic, in Transfigurations and the dueling arts, specifically. But the older wizard with dark auburn hair speckled with faint strands of grey and aged, but nonetheless wise, emerald eyes was of Gryffindor House once upon a time. Among one of his strongest traits besides pride and gallantry was, above all, devotion. And Arnold Bennet was fiercely devoted and protective of his family.

Of course, he takes that protective nature to its limits at times—but considering the recent events surrounding the wizarding world at the moment, his apprehension was properly placed. Or at least he would like to think so.

"Dad, we've got our wands. And I have two of the best duelers in our year on my side, so I think the odds are in our favor."

Arnold chuckled heartily and shook his head. "Point taken, love. But be careful. Remember—fountain, Trinity Inn, 4 o'clock. Michael, did you want to go with your sister?"

The younger boy took no effort in hiding his wrinkled nose. "And listen to their girl talk? No thanks."

Felicia and Nina shared an amused look between them while Lizzie gave a quiet snort. But she soon grinned and ruffled his caramel locks affectionately.

"Have it your way then, Mikey. We'll see you in a bit."

With a small wave in parting from the three teens, they turned in the opposite direction of Lizzie's family and were off on their own.

In truth, it had been quite a while since the girls had been on their own, just the three of them. There was no fault in that—only circumstance, which they all clearly understood. But they were nevertheless joyous about spending time with one another again and took advantage of the time they were allotted with.

After meandering about the shops and emporiums on one of the main streets for a while, chatting away and skimming through vast selections of robes and clothes and cute shoes—which Fee was tempted to buy, but easily refrained after seeing the ridiculous price of 25 galleons—the girls reached the street with the waterfront views of River Ness.

There were a number of cafes and restaurants they passed by, but seeing as how they would be having dinner later on that night, they shied away from the shops and took in the pleasant scenery around them instead, putting effort into changing the topic to something other than the smells of food wafting in the air and the pang of hunger in their stomachs.

But the rather flamboyant ice cream shop sign they saw certainly caught their attention, and ice cream sounded awfully tempting at that moment. They _did_ have a bit of time before heading back to the inn, after all. And it's rather well-known that Gryffindors and temptation was never the greatest of combinations.

"Pivot Alley is quite lovely, isn't it?" Felicia commented happily as she ate another spoonful of her vanilla-and-caramel ice cream.

Nina smiled in agreement and took another bite of her chocolate ice cream, motioning out of the shop windows and adding: "I like the pleasant views most of all. It's not quite like Diagon Alley—and a lot different from the Four Squares back home."

"Glad to hear you guys like Inverness," Lizzie said, rather proud of her new home. "I just want you guys to be comfortable. I mean, it is the holidays after all. Spending it with me and my family may not be the same as spending it with yours, but it's nice, no?"

"Of course," Fee added.

"As long as I'm spending the holidays with friends then I'm more than happy," Nina added with a curt nod of her own.

"Good. And like my parents said, you guys are welcomed back any time. If you want to, of course."

"We'd love to come back."

"Absolutely. Why wouldn't we want to visit again?"

"I mean, I know Mum and Dad can be rather overbearing at times." Lizzie almost looked abashed. "Like how they were with during dinner last night and all. They went a bit overboard with their questions didn't they, Nina? Asking you about your parents and whatnot—it wasn't uncomfortable for you, was it? They don't mean anything by it, but—"

"Oh—no, Lizzie, it's fine," Nina insisted, her cheeks lightening to a reddish tint. "I know they're just curious. I mean, it doesn't bother me—I kinda expected it when your dad asked at Fee's parents yesterday, actually."

"But still…" Lizzie trailed off guiltily. "I know it's difficult. I mean… You're still on outs with your mother, aren't you? And even your step-dad?"

"I… suppose you could say that. But it's not like your mum and dad knows anything of that, so it's fine. Really, it is!" Nina added after seeing the doubtful gleam in those cerulean eyes. "Don't worry so much, guys. Things are working out somehow, so it's okay."

Both Fee and Lizzie shared a look between them—something Nina caught as either concern or pity, or even something in between. But it made her nonetheless unsettled. The silence that fell between them was deafening—painful, even—and the air that surrounded them was almost smothering. The subtle smile that lingered about her lips had faded and she turned her gaze elsewhere, trying hard not show the uneasiness that she felt.

Slowly, Nina lifted her gaze from her melted ice cream and noticed how heavy the silence hung over them—something she hated most of all. No longer wanting to be in gloomy spirits, she mustered up a smile and shook her friends' shoulders.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't have those looks! We're on break. We don't need to be so serious about all that nonsense."

Fee sighed, reaching over to rub her friend's shoulder reassuringly. "We're here for you, y'know. Through thick and thin. You could always come to us for anything."

Lizzie nodded in agreement. "We're only worried because of how quickly everything's been happening. We don't want you to feel like you have to shoulder everything on your own. We just want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy," Nina proclaimed with honest conviction. There was hardly any effort into her smile as she slid off her stool and stood between her friends, hugging them tightly and sighing to herself. "It's hard not to be happy right now. Even if I'm away from home, I'm still with my best friends. You girls are practically like my second family. And it's almost Christmas! How can I be sad?"

"Yes, you're always in high spirits around this time of year, aren't you?" Lizzie chuckled, giving the girl a comforting squeeze to her arm.

"I wouldn't be myself if I wasn't in high spirits—especially around this time of year," Nina grinned as she stole a sip of her milkshake, to which the Lizzie responded with a playful huff.

"High spirits or not, it isn't quite the Christmas until we have those cookies of yours, Nina," Fee added with a wistful grin of her own. "Where _are_ those promised Christmas cookies anyway?"

"Ah… I forgot to make a batch for ourselves… I should probably make them tomorrow. Do you think your mum will mind, Lizzie?"

"Of course not. If anything, she might actually coax you into cooking for the whole day. Like she said, it gives her a bit of a break from cooking duty."

"I'll keep that in mind then," Nina chuckled. She glanced down at her wristwatch and sighed once more. "It's a couple of minutes to 4. We should get going, yeah?"

With a curt nod of their heads, Lizzie and Fee gathered their bags and scarves and slid off their stools as well. Nina smiled weakly as her friends started to talk about other things in Pivot Alley that they hadn't noticed before, simply listening to the conversation with a sense of ease and allowing the words to buzz thoughtlessly in her mind.

The strain between the friends was long gone and even almost forgotten. But for Nina it was still a moment—a thought, a memory—that makes her cringe each and every time it passes her conscience.

She was tired of feeling that dread, that loathing. Over the years it had made her weary. And even then, in that moment, having to think of it all caused an all-too-familiar stir of malaise that faded after days at a time. But after so long, she was simply tired. And so, Nina did what she had always done—she pushed it out of her mind, burying it in her very soul, waiting for those inevitable moments where it would have to be unearthed once more. In her final year, she realized, it was rather impossible for it not to be brought up so often.

But, for now, she wasn't going to let a Muggle like Allen Vale sour her days at school or the time spent with her friends. She was, without a doubt in her mind, going to enjoy whatever came her way.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2014_


	12. Chapter 12

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 – Christmas Cheer for All to Hear<strong>

* * *

><p>There was a muffled sound somewhere nearby. A voice, perhaps. It sounded more like garbled white noise than anything else, but as the moments passed it became clearer, more distinct as it echoed through the halls of the large home.<p>

"IT'S CHRISTMAS! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

Again there was a solid thump, followed by a few more, and a door that opened with a bang only to be closed with the same vigor.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!" a boyish voice yelled in the room.

Oliver grunted in recognition and turned over to lie on his stomach, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep once more. But the thudding sounds grew closer—and louder—and he felt a sudden weight at the foot of his bed, moving it up and down with each jump he knew the young lad was taking. And soon enough, the jolts grew more and more frequent, mixing with the loud laughs and senseless words that reverberated throughout the quaint guest room.

It was only when he felt someone jump on his back did Oliver groan and turn in his bed to catch sight of his three younger cousins. He realized that the perpetrator was actually Callum—the youngest of the three—and his irritation faded somewhat. But nonetheless he held the back of the three year-old's nightshirt to stop him from trying again and stared at the eldest brothers with furrowed brows and bleary eyes.

"Oi, calm down already," he called out, though his voice clearly lacked the severity that he originally intended.

"Get up, Oliver. We wanna open presents," the oldest of the three boys said in impatience. But the excitement in his voice was clearly hard to contain.

"Go wake your ma and da then, Collin," he told the boy as he settled back into his pillow.

"We did," Collin replied simply.

"But they said to wake up Aunt Ellie and Uncle Roland," Charles—the middle child of the bunch—finished with a somewhat-whine.

"Then go wake up my Ma and Da."

"We did," Charles and Collin muttered in exasperated unison.

"They said wake _you_ up, Ollie," Callum explained as he poked his older cousin's shoulder.

Oliver grunted quietly but said nothing else. He simply closed his eyes and almost believed that sleep was a possibility in that moment. Perhaps, he thought, if it looked like he had fallen asleep then they would go on and do something else—_anything_ else—and leave him to such blissfully good sleep again.

But the Wood boys obviously didn't share such sentiments.

"C'mon, get up Oliver! It's Christmas!" Collin yelled loudly.

Oliver grunted quietly once more and glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed through heavy eyelids, only to baulk slightly at the time that stared back at him as he sat up. "What the h— it's not even 6 in the morning. Tough bleedin' luck, go back to sleep."

Charles stared at the older teen as if he'd spoken in some foreign language. "You can't _sleep_ on Christmas morning. There's presents!"

"You can't just open them now, you know you have to wait until everyone else gets here," Oliver countered with a yawn.

"But there's a whole lot of 'em downstairs!" Charles sighed.

"Yeah. No one will know that one's missing!"

At this, Oliver snorted. "Yeah? And who do you think's gonna get yelled at when they realize that you three are playing with whatever new toys you got?"

"They can't yell at me. I'm only nine."

"And I'm seven!"

"I'm four and a half," Callum announced proudly, holding up four fingers to Oliver's face for emphasis.

_These cheeky little…_

Despite his scathing thoughts, Oliver found it practically impossible to contain the smirk toying about his face. Honestly, he loved his family, even his barmy little cousins. But Merlin, these three could be a bloody handful at times. They were gonna bring hell to Hogwarts one day—that was for damn sure, he thought.

"If you have enough energy to sit there and scold us then you have enough energy to get up. So get _up_!"

"Go on then," was all he muttered before watching as his cousins race out of his room and hearing the pattering of their footsteps down the halls and stairs.

A strangled sound bubbled in the back Oliver's throat as he tossed the dark blue duvet off of him—a noise that tottered between a groan and a wry chuckle of some form. His eyes wandered to the alarm clock beside his bed once more and he exhaled slowly.

_So much for sleeping in_, he thought.

Nonetheless, he got out of his bed and stretched, rolling the kinks out of his shoulders as he headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall. After doing his morning business, he passed by the bedroom doors of his parents and uncle and noticed that there was hardly a stir on the other side of the closed doors. Though he needn't a guess as to why that was so.

Shaking his head at the thought, Oliver muttered an _accio_ for the grey cardigan he left in his room and slid it on over his plain white shirt as he descended the staircase.

Gillian Wood's home was actually quite large in comparison to others. With half an acre of unplottable land, though, it was quite the easy feat to have company over, as Oliver found out for himself. The mansion-like home had a total of 5 bedrooms and 3 baths, along with a study and a large expansive living room that gave way to the open kitchens. It was by no means extravagant, but it was quaint and held its own appeal of charm. And it was actually a very lovely home for such a relatively large family.

Descending from the stairs, Oliver stepped into the small foyer, with one opening leading to the study and the other leading to the living room. Excited chatter could be heard from the opening to his left and Oliver yawned heavily, stepping into the living room after getting the morning issue of the _Daily Prophet_ from the mail chute in the door.

He tapped the top of Charles's head with the newspapers in his hands and stared at his cousins sternly.

"No, you don't," he told them, glancing at the not-yet open presents they were about to pounce on. He motioned to the archway that lead to the kitchen and said in his strict, Captain-like tone: "Eat first."

"Aww, what?"

"We can eat later!"

Callum kept quiet but he appeared awfully torn between listening to his older cousin and tearing open the present his dark brown gaze was currently fixated upon.

Oliver simply rose a brow at the boys. "If I'm gonna get yelled at for letting you three open presents early, I'm making you guys eat. At least by that I'm being a bit responsible before letting you do something irresponsible."

Collective sighs and groans could be heard as the younger Wood boys got up from their spots by the Christmas tree and trudged to the kitchen with a smirking Oliver in tow. There was a faint air of hope about Collin as he turned around to look up at his cousin and tried one last time: "Can we just eat later?"

"Nope."

**— ~ —**

By the time Oliver brushed off the last of the crumbs from his hands, his cousins were practically bouncing up and down in their seats, itching to hear those words that had been purposefully suppressed all morning.

"Now?" Collin almost whined.

"Have at it."

With a quiet 'yes!' whispered victoriously under his breath, Collin hopped off his seat and darted for the living room with his younger brothers right at his heels.

"Oi! Don't open all of them!" Oliver shouted after them.

'We know!' was all he heard before the tearing of wrapping paper. The older teen simply shook his head, chuckling to himself, and finished the rest of his orange juice as he gathered the dirty plates. With a quick wave of his wand, the dishes began to wash themselves and he wiped his hands on a dish towel, sighing wearily to himself.

It wasn't even an hour since he woke up and he already felt tired beyond his means. His sluggish footsteps back towards the living room proved this rather well, actually. But once his dark eyes landed on the three lads beside the Christmas tree, all thoughts and concerns about getting more sleep flew out of his mind.

"Oh fu—"

"Oliver! Look!" Charles ran up to him and beamed, showing him a rather nice-looking toy broom. "We got the new Straight-Arrow brooms! Wicked, isn't it?"

But the Gryffindor simply rubbed the back of his neck, awfully tempted to utter the string of profanities as he let out a chuckle instead.

"You three _would_ choose the most blatant gifts out of the bunch, wouldn't you?" he muttered.

Oh yes—if Oliver Wood wasn't going to get yelled at before, he certainly as hell was now.

"Can we fly them around outside?"

The teen gave a loud snort. "Fat chance."

"Why not?" cried Collin.

"It's not even 7 yet and it's bleedin' cold outside. And other than that, you weren't even supposed to get these brooms until later."

"But we saw these in the corner behind the Christmas tree. We _had _to open them!" Collin countered.

_There was a reason why they were behind the tree…_

"And we have them now instead of later so doesn't that mean we can just fly them now?" Charles asked innocuously.

At this, Oliver bit his tongue from uttering the _simple_ choice of words bubbling in the back of his throat and grew quiet. What in Merlin's name _can_ he say to that?

_Fucking hell… You're getting outsmarted by a seven year-old, Wood._

Holding back the pained expression of a blow to a man's ego, he stared at the familiar pairs of chocolate eyes before him and motioned to the larger open space in front of the fireplace.

"You can hover on your brooms there, where I can keep an eye on you."

"But—"

"Take it or leave it," he stated, folding his arms in adamant finality.

The brothers shared another look between them—one that Oliver could see as reluctant acceptance—and walked towards the more open area of the living room. There was a faint look of dejection about them and in their steps, but the enthusiasm in their voices overthrew such dismal dispositions once they began to steady themselves on their toy brooms.

Oliver smiled slightly to himself and went to walk towards the plush white couch nearby the Christmas tree. But once he sat down, he realized there was something missing.

"Oi, where's Callum?"

His brothers shrugged before kicking off and floating about in the air on their brooms. Oliver frowned at their answer but watched them carefully nonetheless, making sure they weren't close to anything remotely dangerous.

_Thank Merlin for high ceilings,_ he thought to himself.

"Ollie."

He looked over the edge of the armrest and found the little tawny-haired boy sitting there with his back against the couch and his knees pulled close to his chest. An unwrapped Straight-Arrow laid before him and his eyes remained fixated on the broom, even when Oliver chuckled quietly and reached down to ruffled his dark locks.

"Bloody hell—what are you doing there, Callum?" he asked with a lighthearted grin. When he was met with silence, he slid off the couch and sat beside him, glancing at the broom with a curiously raised brow. "You don't like the broom your Uncle Roland gave you?"

"Collin and Charlie said it's a really good broom," he said quietly.

"It is," Oliver said proudly. "It's one of the best out there. I helped Da choose it for you guys, y'know."

But Callum shook his head. "But I can't ride it."

"Why not?"

"Because…" he lowered his head sadly, "Collin said I'm a squid!"

Oliver blinked. "A squid…?"

"He said squids can't do magic…"

"You mean a Squib?"

"I said that! A squid!"

The corners of his lips twitched. A squid? That was new, even for his cousins. Collin and Charlie were always saying barmy little things like that. But at that point it was rather difficult to tell if they were being serious or if they were only trying to be silly.

_Little buggers,_ he thought wryly.

Oliver soon threw an arm over his cousin's shoulders, giving them a reassuring shake as he said his next words in a blithe manner: "If that was the case then it wouldn't change anything. Magic or not, you're still Callum Wood. But, honestly? I don't think you're not a Squib, Cal. You've got too much of the Wood charm in you to not be a good wizard."

Hereached over to pick up the Straight-Arrow, disregarding the troubled look on his little cousin's face.

"C'mon, we'll prove it right now." He held out the broom to him. "First thing's first. Mount the broom."

"But Ollie—"

"What do you wanna do right now, Cal?" he asked instead.

Callum glanced down sheepishly and picked at the handle of the Straight-Arrow. "To fly on a broom…"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"To fly," the boy replied simply.

"Sorry? To what?"

"Fly," he said loudly.

"Callum, my hearing's been rubbish since I got here because of you lads." Oliver smiled an imperceptible smile. "Say that one more time again?"

The three year-old huffed and yelled, without inhibition, "I WANNA FLY ON A BLOODY BROOM!"

Oliver only smirked at the outburst. "Glad to see your enthusiasm. But don't say that around your Ma or else she'll throttle me. Now," he motioned to the open space before them, "mount your broom."

With a reluctant nod, Callum mounted his Straight-Arrow while Oliver sat beside him, observing soundlessly with that all-too-familiar scrutinizing stare. The younger boy casted a hesitant glance at his cousin, but the Gryffindor simply nodded.

"Flying is all about thinking of what you want at that moment. If you wanna fly, think real hard about it. You got it, Callum?" He quirked a brow at the flicker of hesitancy he saw. "What do you wanna do again?"

But Callum pouted his lips and replied in a much more confident tone: "To fly."

"Good. Keep that in mind. Think real hard about it, alright? Now kick off."

The confidence that Callum almost exuded quickly diminished and he shot Oliver a pointed look. And for a moment, it looked as though he was about ready to say 'bollocks' and walk away. But the older teen went on, undaunted. "I'm right here, Cal. If anything happens, I'll catch you, alright?"

"Promise?"

"Promise," he smiled faintly. "Now focus. Think about flying, okay? Got it? Alright, then kick off."

It took the young boy a moment of concentration and mental preparation to finally get the nerve to even _think_ about flying. But the Gryffindor Captain was surprisingly patient as he sat there, waiting in that quiet moment as Callum prepped himself. But the excitement he felt, the sudden on-the-edge tightness he felt in his chest, was certainly more than enough for the both of them.

After another second, Callum took a deep breath—much like one would do if they were diving underwater, which made Oliver laugh quietly to himself at the thought—and gave a hard kick off the ground. His eyes were shut tightly as he jumped up, but he felt nothing in the upcoming moments that passed. No rush of wind in his face as he moved forward on his broom, no thump from his feet as they met the ground. Tentatively, he opened his dark brown eyes and felt his jaw drop.

"Ollie! Ollie, look! I'm up! I'm on a broom!"

Oliver grinned, feeling that swell of pride in his chest as he sat back down on the couch. "Looks like you're not a squid after all."

"I'm not a squid!" he beamed.

Callum took a quick lap around the couch, much to Oliver's amusement, and came to a halt. He paused, concentrating for a moment to lower himself back to the ground, and quickly hopped onto the older teen's lap. "You're a good Captain, Ollie! I wanna be a Captain too. I wanna be a Captain like you. Gryffindor Captain!"

With a small smirk about his face, Oliver simply ruffled Callum's chestnut-colored hair and nodded. "One day, Cal. I'm sure it'll happen."

Callum grinned and placed his Straight-Arrow against the coffee table in front of them. He soon gave his older cousin a curious look and tugged at his cardigan with a sudden stir of eagerness.

"Ollie, open a present! Maybe you got a broom too!"

A dry chuckle echoed from the back of his throat. "I suppose there's one way to find out, isn't there?"

"Can I choose?" the boy asked with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Go on, then."

Callum hopped off of his cousin's lap and headed for the abundant number of presents under the Christmas tree. His gaze flicked over the names written on the tags of the presents until he reached one that caught his eye and spelt out 'Oliver' in one swift elegant stroke. With a grin surfacing across his babyish features, Callum grabbed the present and bounded back to his cousin.

"I like this one. The paper is really pretty."

It was a relatively good sized box, covered with a glossy red wrapping paper adorned with snowflakes and a neatly tied silver bow resting at the top. Compared to some of the other presents, it certainly was a bit more decorous out of the bunch. Truth be told, Oliver felt a bit bad for having to unwrap such a nice-looking present.

"Open it, Ollie!" Callum said before he could make out who it was from.

He laughed quietly at the young lad's over-eagerness—quite frankly, Callum appeared to be more excited than Oliver was—and quickly undid the bow, tossing the silver ribbon onto the coffee table. With a quick tear in to the wrapping paper, he peeled off the layer and felt his curiosity spike considerably as he opened the simple white box that laid before him.

In it was a fine bronze-colored owl plushie; one that looked awfully familiar in Oliver's eyes, though it didn't help his confusion much. As he pulled out the soft stuffed animal out of the box, he saw the simple white card at the bottom and soon a small, amused smile made way across his handsome features.

_Merry Christmas, Owl!_

_I hope you like your present. The cookies in here are for you too. I made them myself, so I hope you like them._

_~ Nina_

"Who's Nina?" Callum asked as he took a glimpse at the card in Oliver's hand.

"A good friend of mine."

"Why is it an owl?" the young boy stared at the stuffed animal oddly. "You have a weird friend."

"You think all girls are weird."

Shrugging off his comment, Callum looked into the box and felt his eyes widen slightly. "Oi! Cookies!"

With that, Oliver caught the hopeful glint in the boy's dark orbs. He took out the white tin container at the bottom of the box and popped open the cover, revealing quite the number of delectable chocolate caramel thumbprint cookies. The sweet smell of chocolate lingered in the air for a moment, causing Callum to utter a sound of awe. And although Oliver was relatively silent, it was quite obvious that he, too, was surprised at how good the sweets seemed at that moment.

"Here. You get one. But only one, alright?"

Callum nodded happily and took the cookie with a particular smack of his lips. Both he and Oliver bit into their cookies instantly and savored the taste of chocolate and caramel mixed together in a delicious treat. Despite the fact that the Gryffindor Captain was usually one to avoid sweets, even he had to admit that the cookies were pretty damn good.

"I like your friend," Callum grinned.

Oliver quirked a brow. "You called her weird earlier."

"But_…_ she made cookies! They're good cookies. How can you not like her?" he asked as if mere notion itself was a mad idea.

At this, though, Oliver simply chuckled. "Yeah. I like her too."

He closed the lid of the tin box and placed it on the coffee table beside his stuffed owl. As he stared at both of them, he shook his head as another imperceptible smile toyed about lips.

"Ollie, can I ride my broom again?"

"Maybe in a little bit. We need to clean up the living room before everyone wakes—"

"OLIVER RODERICK WOOD! WHY IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE CHARLIE AND COLLIN OUTSIDE ON BROOMS?"

He cringed slightly at hearing his Ma's boom voice from the foyer, fussing in a shrill voice about having the young lads hurry back inside before they catch a nasty cold. But even as the scolding ensued, Oliver didn't quite mind. Then again, he expected that much so it didn't quite bother him.

_No wonder it was too bloody quiet in here…_

As Charles and Collin rushed back into the house, their cheeks flushed a dark rosy color and their boots sloppy and soaked from the ice and mud, they grinned broadly and hugged the older teen—thanking him and Uncle Roland for the toy brooms before bounding back into the living room to escape the wrath of their Aunt Ellie and Ma.

Despite of the stern stares thrown his way that morning, Oliver was in high spirits. As the adults went on to start their own breakfasts, he leant against the pillar between the kitchens and living room, keeping an eye on his cousins, as instructed.

But his gaze constantly flicked back and forth between the young lads playing with their new toys to the stuffed owl resting atop the coffee table. The actuality of it all sunk in and he rubbed the back of his neck out of subconscious habit, smiling wryly to himself.

Owl.

Bloody hell, that nickname actually grew on him.

**— ~ —**

Christmas swept in the Bennet household before anyone could fully grasp it. It was without a doubt Nina's favorite holiday, but even she was still reeling in that morning of Michael's joyful shouts and excitement. In a way, it reminded her a of rooster of sorts—waking up at the crack of dawn to alert everyone of the upcoming day; even if it was Christmas morning specifically. The mere thought of it made her smile.

"Oi! You little rascal, you didn't even wait for us," Lizzie scolded as they descended the staircase.

"Mum said we could open a present or two before breakfast," Michael shrugged as he opened the nicely-wrapped present in his hands. The good things were always best-wrapped ones, after all.

He opened the white tin cover and felt his jack go slack at the variety of Christmas cookies that laid before him and caused a rumble in his stomach. He checked the tag on the wrapping paper and beamed instantly.

"Wow—these look great, Nina! Thanks!"

The ebony-haired teen glanced up from the presents under the tree and smiled at the boyish grin on Mikey's face.

"You're welcome. But Fee helped make some also. I don't deserve all the credit."

Michael lifted his cerulean eyes from the tin box in front of him and blushed a particularly bright shade of pink as he met deep forest green orbs. He smiled sheepishly nonetheless and stood up, fiddling with the notion of giving the older girl a hug or offering simple words. What was rather apparent for Lizzie and Nina to see was quite latent for Felicia and Mikey, which only made them share a knowing look between them as they watched the two with hidden smiles.

"T… Thanks, Fee," Mikey finally uttered, his cheeks still deeply permeated in that rosy color. "I really like the cookies you made."

Fee beamed and ruffled his dark bangs. "No problem at all. It's our Christmas present to you."

Unable—and perhaps unwilling—to stammer through any other words, Michael simply smiled shyly and turned to head back into the kitchen where his mum was starting to prepare breakfast.

"Rather obvious, isn't it?" Lizzie got out with a quiet giggle.

"I think it's cute," Nina said simply.

"I have no idea what you two are talking about," Fee huffed playfully, though the small smile dandling about the corners of her lips said otherwise.

"A bit of a bold little bugger though, I'll give him that," Lizzie remarked.

But Fee gave a lighthearted wave of her hand, dismissing the subject, and stood up to walk over to the Christmas tree. Nina and Lizzie casted another amused look between them and stifled the smiles threatening to surface their faces.

"Well then, what presents should we start with?" asked Fee as she skimmed over the piles. "We could exchange one another's – I'm dying to see what's in this one. And—hey, here's one I didn't expect. Wood got us all something as well?"

"Really? Cheeky bloke. I didn't quite expect him to get us something."

Fee nodded and handed the caramel-haired teen her present. Nina bit the corner of her lower lip to hide a smile as she watched Lizzie unwrap the red-and-green striped layer of paper. She was rather eager to see her friends' reactions to seeing their gifts; she helped Oliver choose them a bit, after all.

"Nina, there's one for you too."

The teen met her friend's gaze in an instant and the surprise she felt was most certainly evident in her soft features. She took a tentative glance at the red-and-silver wrapped present in Fee's hands and reached out for it with a curious tilt of her head.

"I… didn't realize he got me something as well."

"He got us all something," Fee told her with a subtle beam as she held her present wrapped in green-and-yellow paper.

Nina laughed softly. "'Course."

As her friends began to tear into their gifts, she did the same; though, a bit slower and more curious than her friends but nevertheless eager.

Finally, she pulled off the last layer of wrapping paper and lifted the lid of the white rectangular box on her lap. The simple white card lying atop caught her eye first and as she read it, another quiet laugh bubbled in the back of her throat.

_I know I'm rubbish at choosing presents, but hopefully you'll like what I chose for you. Merry Christmas, lass._

– _Oliver_

Glancing down at her lap once more, Nina felt the corners of her lips curl into a bright smile. It was a very nicely-assorted fragrance set that she recognized rather well. But she read the label of the fragrance and blinked in surprise. Cherry blossoms; her favorite.

_How did Oliver…_

"Oh how cute!" Fee exclaimed, pulling out a very nice crème-colored cardigan and matching two-toned scarf. She soon sent her friend a knowing smile. "Nina, you helped Wood pick these, didn't you?"

Lizzie pulled out her gift—a lovely burgundy cardigan and black knitted scarf—and smiled brightly. "These are much prettier than what I first expected to get from Wood. You _must_ have offered help somehow."

But Nina shrugged innocently and took in the pleasant scent of the perfume in her hands. "Oliver chose the cardigans. I only helped a little bit with the colors."

"Well if that's the case then we're definitely thanking him when we see him next time," Fee said, to which Lizzie nodded in agreement. "What'd you get then, Nina?"

"Ah… just a fragrance set," she replied with a simple smile.

"Ooh, that's rather intimate, no?" Fee remarked, grinning faintly.

A knock at the door cut the teen off from a retort—or lack of one, really. Fee casted a curious look towards her friends but shrugged her shoulders and stepped out of the living room to greet the newcomer, seeing as she was the closest to the front door.

Nina's gaze drifted back to the gift in her hands and she wondered if the vague stir in her wasn't one of indecision but one of a subconscious whim. As she glanced at her friend, the words fermenting in her mind slipped past her lips before she could fully comprehend them.

"Liz, you… You've really fallen for Alex, haven't you?"

The question itself was rather odd. Especially for that moment—and especially from Nina. But Lizzie caught the earnest curiosity in her friend's voice. There was something else to it—she could tell. But it was such a simple question.

"Yeah," Lizzie smiled, pulling her knees to her chest. "I think I really have."

She bit her lower lip in thought. "What do you like about him? That made you come to fancy him as you have, I mean."

"A little bit of everything, I suppose. He's… cute, and funny, and kindhearted… And he's one of the few guys in Hogwarts that I can actually have an intelligent conversation with, without having to jinx him afterwards for wandering or glazed over eyes."

A small grin played across the caramel-haired teen's features as she heard her friend chuckle lightly. But it soon faded as her next words came to mind.

"In all honesty, though? I really… _really_ like him, Nina. Every guy I've ever fancied or been with before are such trolls and trogs when compared to him. He could be crude and blunt at times, but he's always considerate, always honest. He's just—just _perfect._ He always makes me feel… God, I don't even _know_ what to call it. I can't even think of the words to do it justice."

"Love?" Nina offered quietly, a soft smile making way across of face.

Lizzie grew silent for a moment. The mere consideration was enough to make her blush a familiar pink tinge. But she pushed those musings aside for a moment and gave her friend a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"Believe me, Nina. When you feel this yourself, you'll find your answer."

Nina smiled faintly, still soaking in those words and making sense of them. Soon, the sound of footsteps broke through her veil of thought and the conversation was pushed to the back of her mind. Their petite blonde-haired friend reappeared before them in the entryway, the luminous smile on her face most prominently settled.

"Guys, you know how my parents said to expect a present from them to be here by Christmas?"

"I take it that it's here then?" Lizzie asked with a laugh.

She nodded, looking over her shoulder with newfound excitement when she heard those footsteps behind her. "Looks like I got my parents' present after all."

Nina stared at her friend in odd amusement, slightly confused at what was going on. But her gaze met those dark forest green eyes and there was an involuntary stir in her chest, bringing about the most familiar warmth in her cheeks.

His eyes flickered over the girls with friendly recognition, but his gaze remained fixated on hers as he said a simple, "Merry Christmas."

And after all this time, Nina's bewitched tongue could only sputter the single word that crossed her mind.

"Nathaniel…?"

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	13. Chapter 13

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 – Good For Her<strong>

* * *

><p>Nathaniel Royden Wentworth.<p>

Once upon a time, hearing that name triggered an incredibly strong—and, at times, ridiculously blatant—response in Nina. A skipped heartbeat. A shy, almost silly, smile. Warm-to-the-touch rosy cheeks. Perhaps even a soft laugh of nonsensical giddiness. All of these physiological responses were, by and large, involuntary.

They were nothing but a body's subconscious reaction, she mused to herself. A knee-jerk reaction. Though it's more than likely that few would've blamed her in that regard.

Nathaniel stood a wee bit over six feet with a relatively lanky frame brought about by football—an odd Muggle obsession of his after spending so much time in London. He shared the same hue of honey blonde locks and deep green eyes as his younger sister and, at times, shared the same lighthearted disposition as her as well. And in his own right, Nathaniel was quite attractive indeed with lax facial features and that boyish grin of his.

Appearances were, in fact, the first thing Nina noticed about him—it was rather difficult not to, really—but it wasn't something she held in high value. He always had that simple charm, that alluring and warm persona. It was what she liked best about him and after all that time, she saw that that aspect hadn't changed in the slightest.

That Christmas day, he stayed for only a brief amount of time. But before he left he gave her a subtle look, a modest smile, which she returned without hesitancy. After nearly two years of not even seeing an inkling of one another, Nina found being in his company almost refreshing. Much like any other pleasant humbleness that one gets from meeting a dear friend after years apart. That was all there was to it.

The next morning during breakfast was when Felicia received a letter from the wizard, to which she responded with a broad smile. The excited glimmer in her dark green eyes was nearly impossible to miss as she glanced up at her best friends.

"He's staying in Inverness for a bit longer," was what she explained. "He wants to know if we'd like to join him for lunch in Pivot Alley this afternoon."

And the positive affirmation of such plans led the girls to where they were thus far, sitting at the fountain in front of Trinity Inn at noon exactly, just as they had planned. Though, it was noteworthy to say that not a glimpse of that dark honey-colored hair was seen in sight.

"It's just like that guy," Felicia sighed. "He can never quite show up to anything on time, even if he's the one that plans it. You know, it's a miracle he wasn't left behind at King's Cross Station during his years taking the Hogwarts Express."

Nina and Lizzie chuckled to themselves, fully knowing how true those words were.

"Maybe he just got held up with some Ministry business," Nina suggested.

"What a lovely holiday that would be then!" Fee laughed wryly. "Getting a few days off but working off-handedly all the while isn't exactly what I qualify as a break. If that's the case for Nate, then I feel terrible for the bloke."

"Thank you for the sentiments, lil' sis. But it's a bit of a package deal working with the Ministry. A note beforehand to any of you who's considering any job with them—the hours are bloody terrible."

Fee turned around in her seat and smiled as she stood up. "Odd you say that but you love your job anyway."

"That I do," he grinned, kissing her cheek when she drew close for a hug.

"What kept you then, if you don't mind us asking?" Lizzie asked as the siblings parted.

"Nina was spot on with that one," he sighed. He soon turned to her and offered a small, almost apologetic, smile. "They can't quite give a guy a break, even if it is the holiday season. There's always something amiss or something abrupt that needs attention before they let any of us go."

Nina nodded her head in understanding. "I suppose you really do like your job if you're willing to put with that regardless."

"No kidding," he chuckled. "Now! Dealing with a blundering git through the Floo Network all morning has worked up my appetite. Where's a place to get some good grub, Liz? Trinity Inn's got a decent selection but the cook they have is a bit dodgy, I have to admit."

"Ooh, you're talking about Bad-Mouth Badger, aren't you?" Lizzie remarked with a slight grin. "He's a good guy all around, but if you cause a bit of a hassle in the pub or with Madame Kipper then he lives up to his nickname in more ways than one."

"Duly noted," he muttered more to himself than aloud. "Where do you suggest then?"

"How about that restaurant on the waterfront? The one we went to for dinner last time we were here, Liz?" Fee suggested.

"Ah, you mean Old McDonald's? I like that place, they have the best desserts in Pivot Alley."

Nathaniel smiled and motioned theatrically to the open space ahead of him. "Lead the way then, ladies."

"C'mon, Lizzie," Felicia locked arms with her best friend and smiled. "It's usually crowded there, isn't it? We should hurry and beat any crowds there."

The caramel-haired teen shot her friend an odd look, which quickly vanished upon catching the small wink Fee sent her way. Instead of uttering a response, Lizzie simply smiled to herself and glanced over her shoulder to look at the two trailing behind them, watching for a brief moment as they emitted that all-too-familiar air about them as they spoke in hushed tones and elusive smiles.

"How's everything at Hogwarts this year, Miss Fey?" Nathaniel asked casually as they started down the cobblestone streets.

"All's well. It hasn't really changed much since you last saw it."

"Ah, but they replaced the DADA professor again, didn't they? With some new bloke—Lupin or something, was it?"

"Professor Lupin," she nodded in confirmation. "He's actually a really good teacher. A lot of us were surprised that he makes class enjoyable and interesting most of the time. DADA's actually one of my favorite classes out of the bunch this year."

"Considering who taught you guys last year, I'd say that's rather easy to believe."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not quite sure who you're talking about. I don't really remember anyone teaching us much in DADA last year."

"That bad, eh?" Nathaniel chuckled. "With standards like that then I reckon this Professor Lupin chap is a godsend. Can't help but feel a bit bad for Lockheart though. Last I heard he's sharing squabbles with other residents of the loony bin ward at St. Mungo's."

Nina made a quiet murmur of acknowledgment.

"Enjoying your last year then?"

Her smile came about more prominently. "Of course. We have to make best out of the months we have left of school, it's our last one."

Nathaniel smiled and there was almost an expectant tenor in his voice as he asked curiously, "Any plans after graduation that you're considering?"

"Things are a bit… fuzzy when it comes to anything after graduation. But I'm… actually hoping to become a Healer. I've already sent an application for the apprenticeships this summer, so who knows?"

"Ah, Healing! Complicated magic, that is. I never knew you had an interest in it," he commented, pleasantly surprised. "Actually, it's rather befitting for someone who's got a strong knack for magic like you. If you're applying then I'm sure they won't even need to think twice about accepting you into the program. Though I'll admit, I'm a bit disappointed."

She blinked. "D… Why?"

At this, though, he shrugged innocently. But she could make out the small smile dawdling about his features.

"I always thought you'd go into the Ministry somehow and amaze the lot down at the Second or Third Floor. They could always use a bright witch like you. And I'm almost certain you wouldn't disappoint if you were to actually be hired."

"Second… Floor?"

"Oh, right, sorry—it's what we call anyone from a specific department. Each floor in the Ministry holds a different department head. Second's Magical Law Enforcement and Third's Accidents and Catastrophes. I'm on Fifth Floor myself, International Magical Cooperation."

She smiled. "I see. To be honest, though, I never really considered working with the Ministry myself."

"It's only another option. And it'd be nice to have a familiar face around."

"Lizzie and Fee might consider working in the Ministry though."

"So they are," he smiled. "But there isn't anything that would persuade you to consider it as well, is there?"

"I don't know," she started to say in amusement. "If you've gotten more persuasive from working with International Affairs for the past two years like you've claimed then I'm sure you could try to convince me otherwise."

Nathaniel stuck his hands into the pockets of his thick dark robes and showed a playful, but nonetheless thoughtful, look about his face.

"Well the pay is pretty damn good, if I do say so myself."

But Nina shook her head, failing quite horribly at containing her smile. "Don't know about that one. Money never really mattered to me, to be honest."

"Interesting folks you get to work with," he remarked rather humorously. "Most of the people in my department are a bit on the older side, really. But there isn't a dull moment in our offices with that lot."

"It does sound a bit curious… But I'm still yet to be swayed."

"Hmm… The work is simple enough, depending on your department. Unless you're out in the field constantly like our division, it's more paperwork and constant meetings with others, which is more of an easy day. If you're lucky, that is," he added the last part with a grumble but still, she laughed quietly to herself at the thought.

"Not quite stimulating enough for my tastes, I'm afraid."

"Stimulating, you say?" he repeated in wonder. "My, we really are sticking true to some of the ol' Gryffindor ways, aren't we?"

"Absolutely."

Nathaniel smirked slightly at her robust demeanor and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Have it your way. You're missing Apple Fritter Fridays then. It's bit of a specialty around our offices, really."

"You're such a liar," she laughed, nudging his shoulder halfheartedly. "What does apple fritters have to do with International Affairs?"

"Loads," he insisted. "Weldon Rummel, one of the older chaps in our department—a decent wizard, actually—his wife bakes batches of apple fritters every Friday, without fail. Quite the lovely woman she is. And one hell of a baker as well. That's basically our fuel for the day every Friday morning, y'know."

"I think I'm okay without those Apple Fritter Fridays. But it does sound quite nice," she said with a soft laugh.

"Even if it means you won't get to see me every day?"

There was a sudden twinge in her chest as she glanced up to meet the gaze of those deep green eyes. And despite her mind telling her to act rationally, she simply let a weak laugh pass her lips and turned her gaze downcast. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, but she couldn't find it in her to meet them any more than she had.

"I suppose that… does sound rather nice as well," she murmured with a small nod.

"Ah, see! There you have it, you can't resist the ol' Wentworth charm!"

Nina hid another chuckle to herself. The faint trace of tension that she subconsciously felt—the one that made her feel anxious and particularly inhibited—seemed to have diminished into a thin hazy oblivion. And all because Nathaniel Wentworth managed to make her laugh and smile.

Of course, Nina laughed with her friends and enjoyed the time that she spent with them, but there was something more to it this time with Nathaniel. Something that was lighthearted, and comforting, and wonderful. And something that made her feel inexplicably _good_. She had felt it before in the past but this time—_this_ time—it was something she savored with a specific sense of eagerness.

"We'll see about that one then, Nathaniel," was all she said.

"Nate."

Her footsteps stalled for a moment. "Pardon?"

"Call me Nate. You've always called me Nathaniel, ever since we met in your first year. It's rather strange to be so formal with me after all this time, isn't it?"

"Nate."

The mere sound of it was foreign and strange when uttered from her lips, but it was the nevertheless a word—his name. She never quite considered calling him anything more or anything less before; it simply came naturally. But she soon smiled up at him and nodded, accepting it as it now was. It was all she could ever think of doing at that moment.

Nathaniel—_Nate_—smiled back in return and glanced ahead of them, chuckling as they stood in the middle of the cobblestone streets.

"It looks like we lost Fee and Lizzie for a bit. I do hope you know where we're going, otherwise we're not much different than the first time my mum took me to Diagon Alley."

"You got lost at Diagon Alley?"

"Indeed. When I was four. Longest five minutes of my life, I tell you."

"Well, we wouldn't want you to relive such a traumatic experience now, do we? C'mon, it's just around the—"

But her words were cut short at the sound of her name being called out, mixing with the unending hum of the hustle and bustle within Pivot Alley. As she turned around, the confusion etched in her brows melded with the genuine look of disbelief. She smiled brightly and the expression on her soft features gave way to the immense delight she felt the moment her gaze met those dark, chocolate-colored eyes.

"Oliver? Alex?"

**— ~ —**

The plan for that morning was simple: get a bit of a gift for Lizzie—whatever that may be; flowers, chocolates, candies, something along those lines, he reasoned—and then pop right out of Pivot Alley. It couldn't take more than a few minutes, really. And Oliver Wood was particularly keen on having that initial goal accomplished within the time his mind allotted. But he had one drawback that he didn't consider.

He was in Pivot Alley with Alexander Brooks—who, quite frankly, was _the_ most indecisive shopper one could ever meet.

"The licorice wands or the jelly slugs? Lizzie has a bloody sweet tooth so I don't know what her favorite is," Alex grumbled as he balanced one over the other in his hands in some form of mental debate.

Oliver sighed. "Then get her both of them."

"Are you kidding? What kinda message do you want me to give my girlfriend, Wood? I do that and she thinks I think she's getting fat. Or she thinks I think I don't care that she does. Or even that she thinks that I notice that she's getting fat—which she isn't, might I add. It's all very complicated, Wood—you have to be careful with these types of things."

An incredulous look surfaced upon the Gryffindor Captain's features. "What the hell—"

No, Oliver wasn't getting in the middle of that one. Patience was never his forte but after staying with his Uncle Gillian for a week and dealing with barmy little cousins, it certainly taught him a bit of common sense and knowing when to walk away. _That_ was something he wasn't even going to bother with.

"Get her flowers, Alex. Just get her bloody flowers," Oliver muttered.

"She doesn't like flowers though."

"Wha… All girls like flowers," he countered.

Alex grinned and patted his shoulder lightheartedly. "See, that kinda thinking is why you're single, Wood. No originality. Every girl is different y'know."

"One, you're an arsehole," Oliver grumbled. "And two, I don't give a shite about what you say, _all_ girls like flowers."

"Not when they're allergic," Alex pointed out with a nod.

Oliver sent his best mate another dumbfounded look.

_Really, now?_—he thought with a mental sigh.

"Then get her something that won't nearly kill her and something that won't have you slapped in the face for almost-not-really insulting her weight." He paused for a moment and picked up the two packs of jelly slugs and licorice wands. "Never mind, get her the candy."

This time, Alex sent him the dumbfounded look that mixed with a slight pout, to which Oliver simply responded with a smirk.

"You're an arsehole…"

Ah, yes—there was a reason these two were best mates after all.

The two teens stepped out of the confectionary shop with their purchases in hand and walked down the cobblestone streets of Pivot Alley. Alex with a pack of jelly slugs and Oliver with a pack of licorice wands—problem solved, as the Gryffindor Captain cheekily proclaimed

Having just returned from Glasgow no less than an hour earlier made Oliver particularly tired that day. Sleep didn't necessarily come easy during his stay at Uncle Gillian's estate, but there was little control over that aspect. Simply being home—or rather almost home—was a relief itself. Though, his plans on catching up on more sleep were dashed when he ran into Alex at the Trinity Inn only moments after he and his parents floo'd in. Not that he minded much running into his friend, of course, but that morning was a bit of a stretch, even for the Gryffindor Captain.

"Does Lizzie even know you're in yet?" Oliver asked as he suppressed a yawn.

"Nope. I was planning on surprising her later on. She owl'd me not too long ago and said that she and the girls were going out to have lunch somewhere, so they aren't in from what I could tell."

"You're lucky we got back just now as well."

"Ah, well I could've just stayed at Lizzie's place and waited there. Her parents seem to like me a bit, I think. And Mikey's an interesting kid."

"Glad to see you're actually getting serious with a girl if you're getting along with her family," Oliver remarked with a subtle smirk. "It's interesting that you're actually in relationship after you said you'd steer clear of them last year."

At this, Alex gave a snort. "Yeah? Well what about you? What's this bollocks excuse that 'me and Nina Fey are just friends' and whatnot?"

"Still going on about that, aye?"

"Oh come off it. Lizzie told me you and Nina were exchanging letters throughout the week you were gone. That's just a natural gesture of friendship between you two?"

The brunette rose a brow. "Actually, it was."

Alex rolled his eyes and kept quiet as they continued down the main street, unwilling to even bother about it now. But after a moment, it looked as if a stroke of brilliance struck him. Though his curiosity and interest far outweighed the mischievous thought he voiced aloud.

"So… you and Nina are just friends?"

Oliver sighed wearily. "You want me to write it with a sodding blood quill or something?"

"Then… you wouldn't really give a rat's arse about her walking around Diagon Alley or Pivot Alley with some other random bloke looking all cozy now, would you?"

"What Nina does on her own time is her own business," Oliver explained as he rubbed the strain out of his eyes. But as he allowed Alex's words to sink in, he soon shot him an odd look. "Why would Nina even walk around with some random bloke?"

"That's a fine question, isn't it?" Alex commented, grinning ever so slightly. "I was asking myself that just now. Why don't we ask her?"

"What the bloody hell are you—"

"Oi! Nina Fey!" he shouted loudly over the crowd.

Oliver stared at his best mate as if he were mad. Honestly, he must've been off his bloody rocker for even proposing such a thing. Why _would_ Nina even be out and about with some random bloke? Not that he really cared—nor did he imply that Nina was incapable of walking around with some guy. She could damn well do it if it pleased her that much—this, he knew. But such circumstances could hardly be considered a possibility. There was just no way.

"Oliver? Alex?"

_Wait, what…?_

He caught that familiar warm brown gaze and felt confusion settling into the crevices of his mind. Perhaps it was his lack of sleep that prevented him from fully comprehending the situation; or, perhaps, it was just the overall idea of surprise in seeing Nina Fey again that made his brain cease in almost all relatively productive functions. Whatever the case, he simply stood there and watched as she approached them with an openly cheerful look about her face.

"When did you two get back?" she asked as she hugged the sandy-haired teen.

"Ah, not too long ago, really," Alex replied as she pulled away.

She smiled up at the brunette and wrapped her arms around him in a hug as well, to which he returned with the lightest of touches.

"I missed you guys," she said she pulled away from him, her eyes never leaving his for that split second.

But all Oliver could muster up was a smile and a curt nod of his head. Quite frankly, he was still reeling in the situation to say anything else. If Nina was _here_, he began to reason, then…

"Friends of yours, Nina?"

All pairs of eyes landed on the slightly older wizard standing a pace or so behind her, who simply smiled and nodded his head in greeting towards the Gryffindors. Oliver shifted his gaze to the girl before him and resisted the urge to furrow his brows. Was Nina actually blushing?

"'Course. We're all in Gryffindor House. Um, this is Alex Brooks and Oliver Wood. Guys, this is Fee's older brother, Nath—_Nate_," she said firmly, smiling sheepishly at her slip-up. "Nate Wentworth. He graduated from Hogwarts two years ago."

"Ah, you're Lizzie's boyfriend, are you not?" he said as he shook Alex's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same," Alex said with a pleasant smile.

"And—ah, right! You're our Quidditch Captain! Newly appointed the year I left, if I remember correctly." Nate shook his hand with a particular vigor and smiled. "Nice to meet you, mate."

Oliver mustered up another small smile and a curt nod of his head in greeting as he shook Nate's hand with an equally firm grip. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

"Shame about the last game that year. We could've had them if we had Harry Potter in that match, eh?"

"Probably."

"He's still the Seeker this year, isn't he? How's the Quidditch season going for you guys anyway? You guys had your first match a while back, didn't you?"

Nina and Alex froze for second, almost dreading to hear whatever outbursts or cold glares the Quidditch Captain would emit. Reminiscing past lost games was never pleasant for Oliver Wood, and they were well aware that the Hufflepuff match weeks back was a particular sore spot for the Gryffindor. But one could only imagine Nina and Alex's surprise—and, perhaps, relief—at seeing a placid, almost nonchalant, Oliver Wood replying as if it were any other simple question in the world.

"Harry's one of the best Seekers there are out there. We lost our first game, but as long as we keep up our pace at practice then we can make it up in no time."

"Well I hope you win the Quidditch Cup this year then. It'd be a good way to end your last year, eh?"

The corners of his lips twitched slightly. "We're working on it."

Truth be told, it took a moment for Oliver to register Nate's face and namesake in his memory, but he could, for the most part, recall the former Gryffindor.

From what he could scrounge from the depths of his mind, Nate Wentworth wasn't particularly renowned for his hand at magic. But he had a certain knack for getting along with others—even from Slytherin House. A charmer, in essence; or rather that was what he remembered Katie and Angelina saying about the older wizard back then. Adding that with his good looks and he had a strong number of girls pining after him during his years.

As Oliver glanced at the ebony-haired girl in front of him, he almost wanted to snort at the thought that crossed his mind. Nina Fey couldn't possibly fancy a guy like this!

"Where were you two headed?" Nina asked.

"We were actually heading back to Wood's place," Alex replied. He hid a grin to himself as he glanced between the two in front of him. "And you guys?"

"We're gonna get a bite to eat, actually. Y'know, you two should join us," Nate insisted. "Lizzie and Fee went ahead of us to grab a table. I'm sure they'd be surprised to see that we found you two along the way."

The two Gryffindors shared a quick look—one that lasted only milliseconds but certainly long enough to speak volumes for itself. Alex knew Oliver well enough to understand when something tottered the boundaries of some form of inexplicable awkwardness they wanted to avoid, even if it was amongst friends. And that moment well defined such understandings. That and the small twitch in Oliver's brow certainly helped give away his thoughts.

"Thanks, but we're gonna have to politely decline," Alex responded with another grin. "I wanted to surprise Lizzie later on, and we still needed to pick up a few things before we leave anyway."

"Really? You sure?" Nina asked, her gaze flicking between the teens before settling on the Gryffindor Captain himself.

"Maybe next time," Oliver told her apologetically, to which she gave a small nod of her head.

"Alright. I guess we'll see you later then?"

"'Course. Oh, and don't tell Lizzie you saw me, will you? Like I said, I wanna surprise her."

"Mums the word," Nate reassured. "Nice meeting you guys."

"Yeah, nice meeting you," Alex said, while Oliver nodded in agreement.

And with that, the friends parted—one pair continuing down the street, the other ready to turn the corner. Oliver glanced over his shoulder one last time, catching a glimpse of the familiar smile on Nina's face as she spoke words beyond his range of hearing.

Any and all previous musings at the absurdity of Nina walking around with some random bloke simply diminished in his mind. Quite frankly, what Oliver saw between the two of them was in no way a chance meeting between strangers or some other obscure form of relation. But the realization of such facts only made the Gryffindor that much more skeptical. He had seen that look on Nina's face before. Almost every girl has had that same expression at some point in their lives.

But was it possible—even remotely, by the slimmest margin possible—that Nina Fey actually _fancied_ this bloke?

He almost wanted to laugh at how much he was pondering upon this.

_Why the sodding hell would it concern me?_—he realized instantly.

Even if any of such wild musings were close to true then it certainly had no dealings in Oliver Wood's life. He was Nina's friend, of course, but he had no business mucking about in her romantic interests. They were friends—they were _good_ friends; nothing more, nothing less.

"Fee's brother seems like a pretty nice chap, eh?"

"I s'ppose," Oliver muttered.

Alex caught the restrained gruffness in his friend's voice and grinned, but went on unbothered nonetheless. "You think there's something between them?"

"Who knows?"

"Seemed like it though, didn't it?"

"Don't know."

Alex chuckled under his breath. "You're eerily calm about all this, aren't you? We just met a bloke who could very well steal Nina away from you and you haven't so much as flinched. You're either up to your neck in denial or cocky as a fucking hell."

"No one would be stealing Nina away. We're friends. She's perfectly capable of choosing who she wants to fancy. And by all fucking means—she _should_ fancy someone. She deserves a top-notch lad and if that so happens to be that Nick guy—"

"Nate," Alex corrected.

"Whatever the bloody hell his name is," Oliver dismissed with a grumble. He was running on only three hours of sleep and tired as hell. Tactless words were the least of his concerns. "If she fancies Nate and Nate fancies her then that's how it is. Good for Nina."

It didn't occur to him that they had reached the Apparition point in front of the fountain until Alex gave a pat on his shoulder. He caught that smirk creeping out upon his features and resisted the urge to glare at that teasing tone in his voice.

"Alright. If that's how it really is, then you're right."

"Yeah," Oliver said slowly.

Alex chuckled to himself and rose his hands defensively. "Just saying. Good for Nina."

Before the Gryffindor Captain could get in another word, a loud crack resonated in the brisk Scottish air, leaving him alone before the grand marble fountain with a small crease of his brows and slight purse of his lips.

He stood there for a moment and soon sighed wearily.

"Good for Nina," he muttered as he ran a hand through his short brown hair.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	14. Chapter 14

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Old Habits Die Hard<strong>

* * *

><p>Nina was happy.<p>

Perhaps this didn't come as a shock to anyone—or even herself, for that matter. Even the simplest things caused a sense of joy in her life, but for once in a very long while, contentment and satisfaction were no longer average words thrown about. She was, without a doubt, _happy._ And perhaps it wouldn't be too farfetched to claim that a certain blonde-haired wizard had influenced that sentiment somehow.

Nate was always friendly, always open-minded and kindly. But regardless, she always knew that she could be comfortable around him. She could be herself. And for a girl who hadn't had much experience with the opposite sex, and turns incredibly shy and sheepish at the mere mention of a guy she is—or was—a bit taken with, being able to say she was_comfortable_ was a feat more remarkable than one may comprehend.

"I guess we know why you don't fancy Wood then, huh?" Lizzie commented with a shrug when they returned from another day at Pivot Alley.

Stunned silence was her reply at the time. Had she opened her mouth, complete and utter drivel would have been her response. Was there really anything she could have said that would've made sense?

Something about the whole situation—about what Lizzie said—didn't quite settle right with Nina. For a few moments, she was uncomfortable thinking about either wizard in such a way. Fancying Nate, not fancying Nate; it was a simple black-and-white question that had no grey areas in her mind. And, quite frankly, she was almost certain she knew what her response was.

But mixing Oliver into such thoughts suddenly mucked about her logic and reasoning more than she would've liked—and more than she first expected.

She shook her head at the train of thought and allowed the subject itself to be laid to rest. Everything was jumbled and more complicated than it should've been. But, for that moment, she ignored it completely and went on with her day. She had no time—and, perhaps, no patience—for such musings. It was their winter break, after all; and she wanted it to be as enjoyable and pleasant as possible.

But once New Year's Eve came about, that train of thought changed completely.

The morning that day was rather nice enough; breakfast with her friends and the Bennet family, as usual. And she even got a chance to make her cinnamon rolls that everyone seemed to really enjoy, so it was good start of the day indeed.

Cecille and Arnold Bennet had already promised to be at a New Year's Eve gathering that one of their close relatives was throwing. And after a moment of quick debate—and a little bit of insistence from Lizzie and Mikey's part—they decided to let the kids be on their own for the Eve. They were nearly of age, as their eldest daughter had pointed out, and they were certainly capable of being on their own for a few hours. On the condition that they didn't burn down the house in any form, of course. Not that they could anyway.

Alex was the first to Apparate in after a while and Nina, in a rather curious tone, asked if their Gryffindor Captain would be popping in as well. But the response was in the negative.

"I just got back from his place, actually. He's getting ready for Katie's party later tonight, but I'm not quite sure myself if he's gonna be by before he leaves. It didn't quite cross my mind to ask after he practically kicked me out of his house," he explained quite sheepishly.

Nina smiled faintly, content with the answer she heard, but said nothing else on the matter.

Eventually, Nathaniel had Apparated into the Bennet home and was greeted with the sight of the Gryffindors lounging in the living room, reminiscing with a rather piqued air of interest about them. Something about Professor Snape's class, pink hair, chipmunk cheeks, a week's worth of detentions and angry Slytherins—rather good memories indeed, in his opinion.

But the jovial atmosphere amongst the friends was dampened somewhat as Nathaniel explained his bit of news.

"It's a rather big change of plans, actually," he began to say. "They're calling me back to London. Apparently the ambassador from Germany will be in by the morning. And I'm one of the people at the offices that'll be there to greet him."

Protests and suggestions were made at first—asking him to stay until midnight at least and other things like that; or even to quit his job completely to solve that problem. Though Nathaniel didn't quite share his sister's zeal for the latter option. But they understood the situation and settled down, joking aside, to say their goodbyes to the older wizard.

"So you've… already checked out of the Trinity Inn, then?" Nina asked when it came to her turn.

"Yeah. I just wanted to pop in for a bit before heading back to the Ministry," there was an apologetic glint in his eyes as he glanced her way once more. "I'm sorry about not staying for that fireworks display you guys were planning though. I was actually looking forward to it. But you know how the Ministry gets—work and all."

"No, it's fine. I understand. Quite honestly though we haven't even bought the fireworks yet so you won't be missing much at the moment."

He rose his brows. "Really?"

"We went to get them ourselves earlier today, actually. But they wouldn't sell them to any witch or wizard unless they're of age."

"I could get them for you guys, if you want," he offered nonchalantly. "If you're talking about the ones in Pivot Alley, that is. I have an hour to kill before I need to be in the Ministry so I don't really mind."

"You sure?" Fee asked in surprise.

"'Course. It'll stall a bit of time from me having to go to London straight away. One of the other wizards that's gonna be in as well turns out to be Siegfried Milligan, and he's one of the only people on my floor who doesn't quite favor me that much."

"I find that rather hard to believe," Nina commented with a small laugh.

He shrugged lightheartedly and dismissed the thought. "Did you want to tagalong for a bit also, Nina?"

"Ah… I don't kn—"

"You should go, Nina," Fee insisted with a smile. "You mentioned earlier you needed to get some of those chocolate packs. Y'know, to make more of the chocolate thumbprint cookies. You could get them while you're out."

"Alright…" she got out slowly, eyeing her friends with a curious expression. "But you guys don't wanna come along as well?"

"Someone's gotta be here to look after Mikey," Lizzie shrugged.

Fee nodded in agreement. "And I'm sure you two can handle a few bags on your own. Besides, it gives you both a bit more time to catch up and whatnot."

Nina caught that impish glimmer in those forest green eyes that the Wentworth siblings shared, and she understood that look well enough after being close friends with Felicia for seven years. But she only shook her head and murmured a soft _accio_ for her red coat and grey scarf from upstairs.

"Do you guys want anything then?"

"Nope. We're fine. Now go on! Before the shops close down. But take all the time you need, if need be. We're in no particular rush, of course."

"Alright," Nate's tone bordered between that familiar confused and questioning pitch. He turned to Nina and asked in a quieter voice, "Am I missing something?"

"'Course not. They're just rather eager to get rid of us at the moment."

"Well… That's rather blunt of them, isn't it?"

She smiled and gave a tug at his arm. "C'mon. The shops are gonna close soon. We'll be back in a bit guys."

And with a loud crack, the pair vanished into the distortion of time and space, leaving the three Gryffindors in their place—one with an almost incredulous expression about his face, and the other two with one of proud triumph.

"You meddlesome witches," Alex finally said after a moment of quiet.

"Oh bollocks," Fee grinned, dismissing the notion. "It's only a _little _bit of hinting. I hardly call it being meddlesome."

"You've seen how Nina and Nate are when they're together, Alex," Lizzie reasoned as she wrapped her arm around his torso. "Instead of meddling, think of it as… sentiments long overdue."

The sandy-haired wizard rose his brows in amusement. "Is that how it is? Tell me then—how much galleons are you willing to bet that all this _non-_meddling will pay off?"

Fee rose to the idea in an instant. "Quite a lot, actually."

"Sorry to say it, sweets, but I have to agree with Fee on this one."

Alexander simply chuckled and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "Alright then. You're on."

**— ~ —**

The cobblestone streets of Pivot Alley were surprisingly full of witches and wizards that New Year's Eve. Both Nina and Nate soon realized, however, that it was no strange occurrence for the wizarding folk of Inverness and the other surrounding communities to gather in Pivot Alley for the waiting New Year. And the spirit of hearty laughs, heavy drinks, and blissful fun was by no means short in Pivot Alley.

With such liveliness in the wizarding centre, it was no surprise to see that the majority of the shops were still open. Nate bought quite the number of fireworks from one of the shops by the waterfront, as promised, and almost bought Nina her selection of candies as well. But she insisted that she pay for it herself and placed her money down before he could protest any longer.

"I'm a big girl now, Nate. I can pay on my own," was all she said.

Nate simply sent an amused glance her way as she started to snack on a pack of licorice wands.

"You still have that sweet tooth, I see."

The sheepish smile about her face came rather naturally. "I didn't realize you noticed."

"Rather difficult not to. You've had it since I met you, if I remember correctly."

"I've had a sweet tooth long before that, actually."

He grinned and took a licorice wand for himself. "To help you break the habit then."

She glared playfully at him but still smiled, making no other fuss otherwise. As they continued down the streets in a comfortable silence, a thoughtful expression appeared across the wizard's features and he soon voiced his thoughts aloud.

"I didn't see Oliver when I dropped by earlier. He isn't staying with you guys for the New Year?"

"No, he already had plans to go to a party that Katie's having."

He stared at her for a moment, "Lost your enthusiasm there for a sec."

"Well… I mean, I'm a little disappointed that two of my good friends can't spend the New Year with us this time around, but it does happen." There was a warm, reassuring glint in her eyes as she patted his arm. "I'm okay with it though, if that's what you're getting at. I don't want you to feel bad for not being able to stay, so really—don't worry about it."

A small smile began to resurface on his face. That wasn't exactly what he meant, but he opted against saying that thought aloud.

"I didn't know you and Oliver Wood ran in the same circles, to be honest. 'Course you two are in Gryffindor, but no offense Nina—you aren't the type of girl that strikes me that much as a Quidditch player. Or Quidditch fanatic in general, really."

She hid a small grin into the sleeve of her coat. "I may not be as fanatical as Oliver, but I doenjoy watching Quidditch games."

"How did you and Wood go about knowing each other then, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked as he finished up his licorice wand.

Nina offered him another—which he took without hesitation—while she became lost in thought.

"We're… kinda friends by circumstance, now that I think of it. I mean, our best friends are going out with one another so we all spend a bit more time together during the breaks and such. And me and Oliver have a few classes together this year so everything really just panned out the way it is now. Honestly, becoming friends almost seemed kinda… natural."

"Friends, is it?" he chuckled. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"W… What else can I call it?" she asked as she felt that undeniable flush creeping back to her cheeks.

"You can call it whatever you want," he shrugged innocuously. "But once you fancy a bloke, you can't exactly call him a good mate of yours now, can you?"

Slowly, she nodded her head. "I suppose that's true."

"He's not that bad of a guy," Nate said after a moment of silence passed between them. "Once you get past his Quidditch craze, that is. Rumor has it that he's a Quidditch-Nazi on the pitch. But it's rather different when you actually meet him, isn't it?"

"Yeah." A small smile made way across her features at the thought. "He really is a great guy once you get to know him."

"You fancy him then?"

The smile upon her face had dimmed. But as dull as that look was, she couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief—of resolution and contentment—as she finally found the words to say.

"I'm… still trying to figure that out myself, really."

He gave a hearty chuckle. "That answer usually means you _do_ fancy someone, doesn't it?"

Quite frankly, she couldn't find anything to immediately confirm or deny his words, which only made the flutter in the pit of her stomach that much more prominent. But she wasn't given much of a chance to utter another word within the next few moments. It didn't even occur to her that they had reached the Apparition point in front of the fountain until Nate reached to take her hand.

They soon slipped into that all-too-familiar warp that made practically confined her limbs and rendered her breathing to non-existent levels. It lasted only seconds but the compression that overwhelmed her had a lingering effect, even after they landed in the open and quaint living room.

"Alright there?"

It took a moment for her to gather her bearings, but she gave a weak smile and nodded. "Fine. Still need to get used to Apparating, I suppose."

With a small pat on her shoulder in understanding, he walked pasted her and peeked into the archway of the kitchens. But it was quite notable to say that no one was there to greet them when they got back.

Curious as to where they had gone, Nina took notice of the open French doors in the back of the living room. The smell of burning firewood wafted in the air, mixing with the indistinct breath of words that brushed against her eardrums. As she stepped out onto the small brick patio with Nate in tow, she soon caught sight of her friends huddled around the stone firepit, taking in its flickering warmth as they stood bundled up amid the frosty Scottish air.

"I see you two took a bit of a detour," Lizzie remarked with a small smile.

"Not even," Nina insisted.

From behind her, Nate chuckled. "It wasn't too long. From my count, we only took about half an hour." As he glanced over the group of friends, he did a quick double-take and whistled. "Not bad, Wood. You clean up rather well. Quite the evening planned tonight, eh?"

Nina furrowed her brows in confusion and turned her head to follow Nate's gaze. As dark, chocolate-colored orbs met hers, she felt her heart skip a sudden beat.

"You look great," she found herself saying. Although a part of her wondered if her words were more like vague understatements than a proper compliment.

There standing beside his best mate was Oliver Wood, dressed in simple black dress robes with quite the dapper set of pressed black trousers, matching vest, and a pristine white dress shirt. And in that instant, Nina couldn't help but think that the attire looked incredible for Oliver's tall and lean physique.

His short brown hair—which she realized had gotten a tad bit shaggier over the last few months—was now neatly combed to the side. She caught a glimpse of his usual lighthearted smile and everything in that moment sunk in. He no longer carried the image of the rugged, almost disheveled, Quidditch Captain that the world had always seen him as. For that night, he presented an air of the charming and handsome wizard that he always was.

Perhaps, she thought, her previous words were understatements after all.

She watched as he tugged at the white bowtie around his neck uncomfortably, chuckling with a vague sense of wryness.

"I suppose you could say that. I didn't even know the party was going to be this formal until I heard from Katie yesterday."

Nina blinked in realization. "Ah… you're here for Katie's present."

"If you're done with it, that is."

"We tried looking for it earlier, but we didn't quite remember where you placed it when you were done wrapping it," Fee explained sheepishly.

"Sorry, I'll get it. I left it in the living room."

"Wait—did you guys buy the fireworks then?" Mikey asked in that cheek boyishness from behind her.

"That we did. I got a good number of them too so I don't think you'll grow bored any time soon."

Alex took a glimpse into the bag he was handed and rose his brows in surprise.

"Wonderman & Dukes? These are powerful little devils here. One dainty bits of these gives an explosion that puts those sodding Muggle ones to shame."

"It'll start the New Year off with a bang then," Nate smirked, to which Alex responded with a grin.

With everyone distracted by the 'dainty little things,' as Alex came to call them, Nina slipped back into the open living room, clenching and unclenching her hands as she relished the warmth entangling her limbs. But she soon endured a sudden flinch at the sound of a shrill whistle, followed by a thunderous boom overhead.

"Alex did it!" Mikey called out instantly.

"Wha— No I didn't!"

Nina only chuckled lightly at the playful bickering that ensued. She walked toward the maple desk across the room and pulled open the bottom drawer, taking the small red-and-gold wrapped box in hand.

Her eyes flicked to the antique wall-clock that hung above the desk and a sigh left her lips. It was almost nine, just a few hours shy until the New Year.

"Alright, lass?"

The sudden jolt of surprise that struck her was difficult to conceal. But even after letting out a breath, reassuring and easing herself from the sudden start, she still felt the pangs of those unsteady thumps beneath her chest.

"Y-Yeah. Sorry for keeping you though." She handed him the small box and smiled. "I was hoping you would remember to drop by and pick this up. Another hour and you would've actually had me worried."

"Neither of you would've let me live that down if I'd actually forgotten."

"I think you would have to worry more about Katie than me on that one."

"Point taken," Oliver said after a moment of thought.

A quiet laugh left her, but it took more effort than she was used to. But with a small shake of her head, she disregarded the thought. It wasn't something she could linger on, especially not at that moment.

Instead, she exhaled to herself, catching that familiar trace of cologne. That cool scent that seemed to resemble crisp fresh air the longer she stood in her place. It was almost…

_Addicting?_

Brushing off the idea from the brim of her mind, her dark brown eyes drifted aloft to catch his gaze. But they soon flickered back to one small detail that was askew of the picturesque image of the Gryffindor Captain. And she couldn't stop herself from her next actions—not even if she tried.

"Oliver… who tied this bow?"

"I did. Why?"

"Hold on."

She reached up to loosen the unkempt knot that was beginning to bother her. Realizing what she was doing, Oliver flushed slightly and cleared his throat.

"I'm better with neckties then bowties," he reasoned.

"So I've seen," she teased.

Her fingers brush against his neck for the briefest of moments as she lifted the folds of the collar. But seeing him wince slightly only made her recoil her fingers and blush a faint pink tint.

"Ah… I'm sorry—I know my hands are cold."

"It's fine. Just wasn't expecting it."

"Sorry. I'll be quick. Promise."

He leant against the armchair once more and Nina continued where she left off. His dark brown eyes remained fixated on her as she worked, almost analytical, scrutinizing.

"It's not too tight?" He shook his head and she went on, smiling faintly. "Looks like you have quite the night ahead of you."

"It's nothing too grand."

"Oh c'mon." Nina didn't try in the slightest to hide her enthusiasm. "You're going to a _ball_. Or, well, close to one at least. Things like that are always brilliant! The clothes, the company, the location—from what you told me, it all sounds very nice."

"You sound more excited about it than I am."

"Well… things like that can rile anyone up," she reasoned with a small nod. "Almost all girls get excited about events like these. It's like Cinderella—a fairytale night and all."

"Cinderella… That's the one with the pumpkin thing, right?"

Nina laughed quietly to herself. "Yes, that's the one with the pumpkin. It turns into a carriage that takes Cinderella to the ball with the help of her fairy godmother."

It took effort on Oliver's part not to let out a snort. "The pumpkin thing I believe. But it's not like fairy godmothers are real. Not nice ones, anyway."

"Hey!" She gave a light smack on his chest. "You can't crush the dreams of millions of girls, Oliver. Especially considering how this night is gonna go. You have to be especially nice to Katie also. Part of the event is to celebrate her birthday too."

"What, you expected that I'd push her into her birthday cake or something?" Nina swatted at his chest halfheartedly once more, which only made him chuckle. "Kidding. I already did that when I was seven."

"What?"

"Merlin, you really are gullible, aren't you?"

She let out a quiet huff at the teasing tone in his voice. "You're just as cheeky now as you were back then, aren't you?"

"Wee bit," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes and tugged at the ends of the white fabric. "You're lucky I'm more concerned about getting this bowtie fixed than chiding you for your cheekiness."

"As if you didn't already chide me for it already."

"Don't tempt me."

He chuckled, which only made her grin faintly in reply. Her hands lingered on the white bowtie, even after it was perfectly made. And for the briefest of moments, she wondered if she could stall him and keep him in his place for just a bit longer. But it was a sudden spike of her conscience, a heavy jab to her chest, that made her want to frown.

_How greedy_, she thought in sudden disdain.

"Done," she announced quietly, giving a reassuring tug for emphasis. She smiled to herself as she readjusted his shirt collar a bit. "You really do look very handsome tonight, Oliver."

"I suppose I clean up rather well at times."

_Very well, actually_—but that was a thought she didn't dare to voice aloud.

Instead, she gave a soft pat to his chest and smiled. They stood in their places, uncertain of what to say even when the words were practically at the tips of their tongues. But, silently, that war of contemplations raged on in both their minds.

Eventually, the creak of the wooden floorboards caught their attention.

"Oh, blimey," Nate cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Ah, don't mind me. Just an innocent bystander. Didn't mean to interrupt."

Nina felt the heat creeping about her cheeks as she took a step back from the Gryffindor Captain. It didn't even occur to her how close she was to him until he straightened up in his place against the armchair.

In that moment, she wasn't quite sure if the wave of relief she felt was a welcomed sensation or not. But the small smile of greeting on her face hadn't dropped, even when she herself could sense that thin veil of awkwardness nestling upon them.

"All's well. I need to get going, actually," Oliver glanced at the girl beside him and gave a gentle squeeze to her arm. "Thanks for helping me with Katie's present, lass."

Nina nodded. "N-No problem."

"Going already, Wood?"

"Wish I wasn't. But I'm already running a bit late and if I miss my friend's birthday this year, I won't hear the end of it later."

He shared a look with Nina, who smiled knowingly and shook her head. Nate saw what was before his eyes and hid his curiosity into the pleasant smile settling about his features.

"Shame though. But I guess it can't be helped."

Oliver nodded and offered his hand, shaking Nate's with his usual hearty vigor. "Take care, mate. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah—'course, you too. And good luck with the Quidditch Cup this year. Win it for Gryffindor, eh?"

With a small smirk toying at the corners of his lips, Oliver nodded once more and gave the ebony-haired teen beside him another reassuring squeeze to her arm. The smirk upon his features softened as he met her warm brown gaze and, again, the urge to utter certain words tottered at the tip of his tongue. But, again, his mind came to a blank at what those words were.

"Happy new year," was all he said as he stepped away from them both.

"Oliver?"

He turned around to look at Nina once more and watched as she mustered up another small smile.

"Good luck. With Katie and tonight."

"Gonna need it," he chuckled.

And with nothing else but a small wave in departure, Nina watched as Oliver Disapparated. For the second time she felt that melancholy, that uneasiness, as she stared at the open space he was in only seconds before. But she couldn't, and didn't, do much else about it.

"Are you alright, Nina?"

"Of course." She mustered up a brighter disposition. "Why wouldn't I be?"

After a moment of scrutiny on Nate's part, he shrugged and said a simple 'if you say so.' He placed the plastic bags in his hands onto the couch and turned to look at the ebony-haired girl, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark robes and staring at her with another apologetic gleam in his eyes.

"Sorry about earlier. I just wanted to say my goodbyes before I leave for London."

"No—don't be silly. It's fine." She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug, heaving a long sigh and taking in a faint trace of peppermint mixed with a humbly warm scent of cologne. "But I'm really glad we got to see each other again this year, Nate. It's been a while since we saw each other last."

"Much too long," he chuckled, parting from her. "I'm not even sure if we'll get to see each other again after this. Or even after you graduate. Unless you've changed your mind about applying with the Ministry?"

"It's tempting, but… I think I'll stick with my dream of being a Healer," she said with a small grin.

"Ah, figured that much. Stubborn to the very end at times, aren't you?" he said as he ruffled her bangs.

"Only with things I'm passionate about," she reasoned, fixing the stray locks back into place, her grin still lingering across her lips. A thought crossed her mind and she glanced at the bags on the couch. "Oh—and before I forget."

She rummaged through the blue striped bag and pulled out a familiar plastic pack twined with a golden ribbon. "These are for you."

"Oh bloody hell—Sugar Quills! It's been a while since I've had these."

"You always ate them during your classes. And you even told me you got a few detentions because Professor McGonagall caught on that you were eating them during her lectures rather than taking notes."

"Good times," he recalled with a particular fondness. "Fee even got mad at me one year because I wasted a good portion of my money on them. It wasn't that bad, really. Compared to the spending sprees you girls make on sweets over the years, at least. But I'll admit, it left quite the dent in my wallet at the end of the year."

Nina rolled her eyes. "And you said _I_ had the sweet tooth."

"Believe me, you do," he grinned at her playful glare and glanced down at the plastic pack in his hands, already tempted to eat one. "I'm just surprised you remembered about that at all. It's been a couple years since I've actually had Sugar Quills."

"I always remember things like that," she explained simply.

Nate stared at the girl before him, almost fascinated by her genuine ease. It was one of the things he always admired about her. Her sincerity, her innocence. In some ways, it was part of her charm.

A part of him always wanted to know more about her and about the other sides of her. But despite how long he had known Nina Fey or how well he had known her, Nate knew that the idea itself was uncharted territory. Yet, at that moment, by those simple words, it compelled him enough to be even more curious about it—more than he was in the past.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"'Course. Ask anything you want."

Nate stared at her for a moment, observing every twitch and curve of her lips and cheeks. "Back when I was at Hogwarts, during my last year. You fancied me back then, didn't you?"

To say that she didn't feel a sudden coil in her stomach would be an outright lie. But despite that, the quiet sigh that left her lips had already melded into the airy laugh that bubbled into the back of her throat. Playfulness was long gone and in its wake was a look of pure earnest, of raw simple bliss—and from that alone, Nate knew that whatever words he heard next would forever be the truth.

"I did. Quite a lot, I think. I was really, _really_ happy back then because of you, Nathaniel. To be honest, I always that I'd be too embarrassed if you ever found out. But… I guess I'm more relieved than anything else now that you finally know."

Nathaniel. He smiled wryly at hearing his whole given name. She was the only one to ever get away with calling him that.

"Looks like it took me a bit too long to realize it though, eh?"

Nina smiled faintly and stood at the tips of her toes, giving him an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Nathaniel."

And from that, the wizard came to see his answer. But even then, the smile never quite left his face. He figured it as odd. Most guys would've been devastated had they been in his shoes. But Nathaniel couldn't quite see it in such an aspect.

It was partially his fault for losing that chance—this, he openly accepted. And while he was never one to back down from a challenge—as he found out, Gryffindor habits die hard—even he had to admit defeat in that one instance. But when it came to things like this, and with Nina especially, he was willing to step down on his own terms.

"Nina?"

"Hm?"

In that instance, she felt warm lips press firmly against hers. By some form of subconscious habit, she closed her eyes and caved in with a sense of shyness she had never felt before. A cool gruff hand cupped her cheek, caressing it with the lightest of touches, as his lips moved softly against hers. The hint of peppermint filled her nostrils as she stood there, still reeling in the situation as those few milliseconds passed. But it all felt so surreal.

Something in her mind acknowledged that that moment was sweet and subtle and incredibly nice—but, at the same time, something was amiss. A particular heaviness hung on her heart like a perpetual swing and she realized what that was. Guilt.

She felt his breath brush against her vacant lips and she soon opened her eyes. Her gaze drifted upwards to meet his, catching sight of the small smile tugging the corners of his lips, and an unfamiliar look shone in his eyes—a look of mixed regret for that moment lost and mirth for that moment kept. It was almost difficult for her to bear and see. But she came to realize that it was a sentiment they both shared.

The warmth of his hand lingered for a second, caressing her cheek with a subtle stroke of his thumb. And with one last look of what some may even deem as adoration, he stepped away from her.

"Goodbye, Nina."

An abrupt crack rung through her ears and the wizard disappeared before she could blink, leaving her there with an almost dumbfounded expression about her face.

Slowly, she rose a hand to her lips, relishing the heat of his kiss that still lingered about.

A part of her felt so utterly torn. She knew how she felt—they both did now—but she couldn't help the sense of loss that sunk into her bones, permeating her conscience. It was like a part of her—a small part of her that she stored away in the corner of her heart—had suddenly vanished. Yet she felt no pain, no grief. Only a natural sort of sadness, of emptiness, for that sudden loss.

Despite that, though, Nina smiled a sad sort of smile to herself. The reality of the situation had begun to seep into her mind and there was only relief. That unhindered feeling, the one that created such a lighthearted effect that almost kept her head spinning, was the juxtaposition in that moment. But the realization—and, perhaps, acceptance—of such a thing was like the final act of closure for Nina.

At that point in time, now that she thinks back on it, she came to see that that was only the beginning to the spur of complexities in her life. But at that moment, she didn't want to deny it. She didn't want to anymore.

**— ~ —**

Oliver Wood was not jealous.

The mere thought of it alone was enough to make him snort in an ungentlemanly manner. Jealousy—by definition of Muggles, wizards, and the English language alike—would be feeling that undeniable green-eyed monster creep about your conscience, feeling it muck around with what made you sane and keen. An envious resentment, a suspicious fear. That was, by and large, what everyone has known as jealousy. He even looked up the word—out of morbid curiosity, of course—in one of the Muggle dictionaries in his Da's study.

And there was no resentment, nor was there fear—Merlin knows there was hardly an inkling of it!—and there sure as bloody hell was no envy or suspicion. Everything was laid out before him, clear as a sodding crystal ball, and he felt nothing of what that dictionary depicted.

Oliver Wood was _not_ jealous.

But, in truth, Oliver _was_ uneasy; and, perhaps, even a bit peeved. Something in the back of his mind pestered him to no end about what was unfolding before his eyes and despite those numerous attempts to shrug it off, it soon became exhaustingly frustrating. This wasn't jealousy. If anything, though, this was just as troublesome—if not more.

At first it didn't quite bother him. In fact, at one point he even convinced himself to encourage it. But as the last few days went by, he found such a notion absurd. Why encourage something he quite honestly didn't wish to? It would only be that unspoken fallacy, that deep dark secret he kept from everyone—especially her—and that was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to keep.

No, Oliver Wood wasn't jealous. Jealousy would've been insulting—to her and to him as well. He had no right to be jealous, especially not of this. But Oliver Wood was not in any way at ease. Not one bit.

_She's happy though_.

And with that thought alone he relented. Albeit, with some odd sense of tepid approval. But he couldn't make much sense of it all otherwise. Even if it was New Year's Eve, it was much too late to be mindlessly pondering over such things.

He excused himself from the small group of other seventh years he had bumped into and moved towards the double French doors that led to the back gardens.

The Bell family manor was a rather large mansion of medieval remnants. As it laid on an acre of unplottable land owned by Katie's grandfather, it was the ideal location to hold such a large revelry. And as the night had shown, there was quite the number of people present indeed.

The night itself was pleasant enough with good food and good company, but after a few hours of chatting with others and stuffing himself full with little hors d'oeuvres and desserts, the ballroom became too warm and stale for Oliver's liking.

He stepped out into the cold air and took a deep breath. Snow had stopped falling long ago and a subtle wind had cleared the skies of clouds for the briefest of moments. A few people lingered about on the veranda as well, talking quietly amongst themselves and sipping their drinks casually. Behind him, the drone of laughter, music, and nonsensical conversations faded from his ears. But at that moment he savored the much needed quiet.

"Oliver."

For a time, he enjoyed it anyway.

"Katie," he greeted with a small grin.

"I was wondering where you headed to," she said as she walked towards him. "Got bored of the party already?"

"Nah, just wanted a little bit of a breather."

"It's freezing out here though. You aren't cold?"

Oliver glanced her way, taking note of the red satin dress that left her shoulders and arms bare. She was quite stunning that night with her blonde locks charmed into soft curls that fell to her shoulders, and a light touch of make-up that accentuated her honey brown eyes. Had he not been so concerned with having his friend nearly freezing to death, he would have marveled in her beauty with a bit more keenness.

"Here." He shrugged out of his black dress robe and placed it over her shoulders. "There's a warming charm on it, so you won't be too cold while we're out here."

"What about you?" she asked, slipping her arms into his robes.

He shrugged. "It isn't too bad."

"You know…" she started to say after a moment of scrutiny on her part, "You've been rather quiet tonight. A bit strange, even for you."

At this, he chuckled wryly and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's been a bit of a long day, Katie."

"Oh, c'mon, Ollie—smile! It's New Year's Eve, for crying out loud. Starting it out so dismally is the worst of luck for the year."

The odd sense of amusement he felt at that moment fueled the small smile on his face more than anything else; but it served its purpose in some form nonetheless.

"I'll keep that in mind then."

Katie's smile came about more prominently and she leant against the railing behind her, stuffing her hands into the robe's pockets and staring up at the myriad of bright stars overhead. Her fingers brushed against some sort of rough material though, making her glance down at her hand as she pulled out something from the pocket.

It was a gold bow that she tugged at, she realized; and soon enough, she took in the red glossy wrapping paper and tag that had her name written in one swift stroke.

"Ollie," she patted his arm to get his attention and grinned. "Is this mine?"

Oliver flicked his gaze in her direction once more and he straightened up in his place. Merlin, he'd practically forgotten about that little box. Neither girl would've forgiven him if that scenario had panned out.

"It has your name on it, doesn't it?" he teased.

With a faint air of enthusiasm about the younger witch, she undid the bow with a single tug and lifted the red lid from the box. In it laid a golden charm of a Quaffle, which made her laugh softly to herself. But the fact that it was a charm surprised her to know end. She glanced up at the brunette, eyeing him in both disbelief and delight.

"Surprised?"

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. "Well, of course! But how… I mean…"

"Thinking what gift to get was a pain in the arse, I'll admit. But the fact that you kept that charm bracelet of yours came about, so…"

"I'm just a little surprised that you remembered I had that bracelet at all."

"'Course I remembered. You always wear it during our matches." He pointed to the charm with a small grin upon his face. "A flower or a bow of sorts was suggested at first, but I figured you'd might appreciate a Quaffle a bit more."

"You went into Hogsmeade with Angie and Alicia to get this, didn't you?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

"I got a little help with choosing presents," he replied instead, looking up overhead to avoid her stare.

Katie simply smiled to herself as she stared at the charm for a moment longer.

"I love it," she said.

Oliver opened his mouth, ready to say the thought drifting through his mind, but sound of the large crowd inside the ballroom counting down caught both of their attentions. The few people who lingered on the balcony were already long gone, rejoining the others inside and sounding off for the New Year. But both teens stayed where they were, staring at one another with small smiles.

_Five._

"Happy belated birthday," Oliver finally got out over the loud crowd. Katie smiled in thanks and turned her attention back to the small gift in her hands.

_Four_.

A mental debate passed her mind, but she quickly came to her decision that split second later.

_Three._

The Gryffindor Captain stared up at the dark skies once more, already lost in thought at the very thing he told himself to let go.

_Two._

"Oliver?"

_One._

He turned his head to look at her, only to watch as she drew close to him. Before he registered it in his mind, she had pressed her lips against his in one fluid motion. Thought and logic on the whole situation was now moot and his response was the only thing that came to mind.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

He kissed her back.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	15. Chapter 15

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 – Sooner or Later<strong>

* * *

><p>Nina glanced at her wristwatch and sighed quietly to herself. At half past eight, it wasn't quite the late start of the day. But sleeping in was starting to become a nasty habit she needed to work on, she had to admit.<p>

"There's our other favorite seventh year girl!"

"We haven't seen that bright face in ages!"

The look of surprise she sent the Weasley twins didn't go unnoticed. It had been two weeks since she saw them last, so it really was nice to see that set of flaming red hair again. But truth be told, she didn't quite expect such a bubbly response from the pair of Gryffindors.

"Good morning to you guys too," Nina said in amusement.

"The twins seemed to have missed us dearly in our absence," Fee explained as her friend drew near.

"'Course we missed you girls," said one twin.

"Yeah. Especially you, Fee—you, your short self, and all," replied the other with a playful grin.

Felicia shot them both a half-hearted glare. "Hardy har har."

She was never upset by the Weasley twins' teasing. In fact, she came to realize that the cheeky devils hardly miss the chance to poke fun at her height disadvantage since the start of the year (she was marginally past the 5 foot mark, after all; quite short indeed compared to their 5 foot 10 frames). If anything, she had gotten used to it and found such banter rather endearing as time passed. Though, it never did quite deter her from smacking the two when the occasion arose—much like that moment.

"Oi! Fred was the one who said that, why take it out on me?" George pouted.

"You pay for his mistakes," she replied simply.

Nina laughed quietly at the exchange. "Well, I definitely missed you two as well."

"How come the girls get such nice warm welcomes while me and Oliver get the cold shoulder?" Alex asked with a raised brow. "We got here before the girls and we don't even get a 'good morning'?"

But George gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Eh, we see you two enough throughout the day."

"And forgive us for not getting all riled up at seeing two blokes. Three pretty girls—"

"—older girls—" George added with a merrily raised glass of orange juice.

"—are much to our liking, thank you very much," Fred finished with a grin.

"I feel slightly insulted," muttered the sandy-haired teen to the brunette beside him. Oliver chuckled quietly to himself as he continued to pick at his breakfast.

"I'm sure they didn't mean it in that way though," Nina commented as she settled on the bench beside Oliver. But she soon caught sight of expression on Alex's face and held back her grin. "Or maybe they did."

"Oh calm down, Brooks. We're only joking."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're still the number one seventh year in our hearts."

Alex's left eye twitched slightly. "Forget I even brought it up."

Nina chuckled softly to herself. That was by far one of the things she loved about the twins; their goofiness. It was practically impossible to be mad with either of them for long. And she sorely missed their ability to create such a jovial atmosphere during the break. Despite the semi-glare that Alex shot the two, even she could tell that Alex shared the sentiment. Somewhat, at least.

She shook her head at the lighthearted chitchat that had ensued between her friends and turned her attention to the Gryffindor Captain beside her.

"Morning," she greeted with her usual kindly smile.

He caught her gaze and smiled back, offering a quiet 'morning' in return before he went back to his breakfast. Something compelled her to say something at that moment—anything, even the most absurd of things. But she quite honestly didn't know what.

Somehow, being at a loss for words was starting to become a usual occurrence with Oliver Wood around. And she wasn't sure if she should be troubled or accepting over such a thing. Perhaps, in some obscure and opaque way, she was supposed to feel both.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Nina," Fee brushed the crumbs of toast off her hands and held out a small pile of letters. "The post came in a bit before you did. Rufus dropped off a couple for you."

"Ah…" She took the pile with an appreciative nod. "Thanks, Fee."

Once she undid the twine that kept the letters together, she soon smiled at names of the senders. One was from her mum, another was from Annie, and, for once, there was a separate letter from Cameron as well.

Merlin knows how irked Annie must've been whenever the lanky Seeker stole her letters just to scribble a little message on the back. She had certainly mentioned it a number of times over the last few months. And knowing Annie, the petite raven-haired girl must have finally given him a good scolding for it—much to the point where he would have to write his own letter.

As she read Cameron's letter first, she came to realize that was the case indeed.

_Annie got pissy with me when I asked for her letters again. I told her that it helps saves trees—you know, writing it all on one letter and all. But apparently Annie doesn't like trees because I'm writing this letter on my own paper this time._

There wasn't a dull moment in either of their letters, she thought with a small smile.

"Hey, Nina?"

"Hm?"

Felicia hid the grin on her face as best she could. "You got another letter."

Nina tore her gaze off the paper in front of her and furrowed her brows. She took a tentative glace at the letter from Fee's hand and reached out to take it with curious expression about her face. Her eyes soon noticed the scraggly letters the spelt her name; but by that alone, she needn't a guess as to who the sender was.

_Dear Nina,_

_Hopefully, Fee gets this to you properly. I don't believe she's the type to pry into other people's letters, but if there were any eyes wandering about then they won't be reading what you are at the moment. If there was anything I picked up from my time at International Affairs, it's the art of perfecting Illusion Charms with letters. Anyone but you would be reading about my usual dealings around the office by now, and I made it exceptionally boring to ward off interest._

_Not bad for a chap who barely passed Charms with an E, eh?_

(She can imagine him grinning rather proudly at this point, which only made her smile.)

_But anyway, back to my point. I didn't write to you to gloat over such a trivial feat._

_I'm actually writing to apologize. How we left wasn't exactly the way we both expected at first, and from how you reacted, I'm sure it caught you off-guard as well. It was the spur of the moment, I'll admit. And I'm sorry if I offended you in any way. That wasn't my intention in the slightest. If that's the case, then I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me._

_But I do want to be honest with you. I don't regret a second of it. And I'm not sorry for that sentiment. My only regret, if you can properly call it that, was seeing you again too late. You honestly have no idea how humbled and grateful I was at hearing how you really felt—even if it is all in the past tense now. But frankly, I was much too daft and caught up in my own world to realize that I actually fancied you back then as well. But telling you now almost seems relieving. I fancied you back then, Nina. I really did._

_Truthfully, though, that's a moment and thought that I overcame a long while ago. And, if anything, seeing you again, even kissing you, helped me do that. Despite all that's happened and where it has ended up, I don't think I would change any bit of it. So, in some sense, thank you. For giving me that chance and letting me see that myself._

_Honestly, you really are a beautiful girl, Nina—both inside and out. You're intelligent, compassionate, gentle, and remarkably lovely. And you deserve a chap who will always see and cherish you as such. I know now that I'm not that person. Perhaps fate will say otherwise sometime in our lives, or perhaps not; a mystery that will inevitably unravel itself in the future, I'm sure. But, regardless, until that day, find happiness for yourself. You deserve it. And I'll do the same. I think I already have, somewhat. But that's a tale I'll save for another day, in another letter._

_Regardless of everything that's happened, you're still a good friend of mine, Nina. You can always write to me for anything—I'll respond without a doubt. That will always be my promise to you._

_Take care of yourself. And look after my barmy little sister, will you?_

_Sincerely,  
>Nathaniel<em>

_P.S. Good luck with Oliver. Write to me if you need any advice or help. I don't mind popping into Hogwarts for a bit, if need be._

That faint sense of loss settled in the pit of Nina's stomach again as she read Nathaniel's letter. But, at the same time, a part of her truly felt grateful_—_perhaps even to the same extent of graciousness that Nathaniel conveyed himself. There were no words to completely describe what they shared; but she knew now, from where they stood and where they were now going, that they were happy. And that was, perhaps, the most significant thing she finally come to terms with.

With a small smile breaking through across her features, Nina read and reread the last sentence. And quite honestly, she had no doubts that Nathaniel would keep to his word. If need be, of course. But it was nevertheless amusing in her eyes.

"So who's the letter from?" Fee asked nonchalantly as she nibbled on her blueberry muffin.

Nina came to her senses at the sound of her friend's voice and offered a weak, but playful, smile.

"Someone you know as well, apparently."

"I think the question she really meant was 'what did the letter say?'" Lizzie added with a knowing grin.

"You can read it if you want," Nina outstretched her arm with the letter in hand. "He's doing rather well at the Ministry, from what I could make out."

"What?" Forest green eyes skimmed over the letter and Fee soon found herself wrinkling her nose in disinterest. "That's rather boring of him, isn't it? You'd almost expect him to write about something other than flipping through files for the hours on end. Especially if it's a letter for you."

Nina took back the letter when Lizzie had finished and she hid a small smile to herself.

"I suppose," was all she said. And soon enough, the conversation was dropped and long forgotten. She made a mental note to herself to compliment Nathaniel when she got the chance. His Illusion Charm worked remarkably well, apparently.

As she skimmed through the letter one last time, she couldn't help but linger on four simple words.

_Good luck with Oliver_.

Slowly, her gaze drifted to the Gryffindor Captain beside her.

There was almost a distant look in his eyes as he sat there; one that went unnoticed, even amongst their friends. And for a moment even Nina told herself to think nothing of it. But she saw that slight purse of his lips—a simple gesture that she had seen him use only once or twice in the past—and she became bothered. He looked so serious, but she couldn't seem to make sense of why.

"Is everything alright, Owl?" she asked in a soft tone, devoid of the conversations and chatter going about from the others.

Oliver shook loose his contemplations. He found the ebony-haired teen staring up at him with that warm brown gaze of hers and almost flinched. But that alone was enough to make him want to frown.

Since when the bloody hell did he start to _flinch_ whenever he looked at her?

"You've been a bit quiet this morning," she began to explain. "Almost had me worried, to be honest."

"Just thinking," he said.

"Very seriously, from what I could gather." She smiled a faint smile at seeing his quirked brow. "Thinking about what then?"

Truth be told, even Oliver wasn't quite sure of this answer. His thoughts had been everywhere since the start of the morning, unrelenting and unsympathetic as it consumed all his thoughts and giving little room for anything else. Having to pinpoint a hint of his musings would've been a feat in itself. But quite frankly, it wasn't something he was eager to try.

The Gryffindor just shrugged his shoulders and offered the only answer he knew could seamlessly pull off.

"Quidditch."

"It's the first day back from the break and you're already thinking about Quidditch?"

"You say that as if you're surprised," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes playfully and took a bite of her yogurt. "Spoken like a true Quidditch Captain then."

"I hardly know any other way."

"Well, try not to kill any of your players then, will you?" she got out in a jested manner. "And I only say that for the well-being of your team. I'm good friends with the majority of them, you know."

"Ah, they'll be fine. They're tough players. None of my training regimes are gonna kill 'em. Not yet at least."

"Owl…"

He chuckled at the tone she used. "Kidding."

"The sad thing in that is knowing that you're actually half-kidding."

But Oliver couldn't find anything to deny her words. He only rose his hands a bit defensively and leant forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I live by a simple rule when it comes to Quidditch, lass. No sacrifice, no victory."

She echoed his words with a slow, agreeable nod. "A rather befitting motto for Quidditch, I think."

"He also goes by 'after I run you into the ground, I make you run 20 more laps'," George piped in across from them.

"And he's a big fan of 'exhaustion is for the weak'," Fred added with a nod.

Oliver shrugged and, if anything, approved of the notion with a smug smirk. "If that's what you boys believe then I think I'm doing alright as Captain."

"Aw, c'mon, Wood. Can't you have a New Year's resolution to go easy during Quidditch practice for once?"

George saw the looks that were sent his way. And even Nina found his words a bit strange. Honestly, 'take it easy' and 'Quidditch' served no purpose in a sentence when it came to Oliver Wood—this, of course, was most obvious at that moment.

"Right… That made more sense in my head than aloud."

Nina felt the corner of her lips twitch aloft. But she continued to eat her breakfast, listening as the boys spoke about Quidditch and the upcoming games with quite the animated air about them.

Quite frankly, she couldn't understand half of what they were saying. But she heard them mention their game coming up the next month and knew that was of noteworthy importance. And they had mentioned repeatedly that Harry Potter had gotten a new Firebolt over the break. What that was exactly, she wasn't quite sure though. But it was something they deemed, as they've said, "fucking brilliant." So surely that must mean something good.

Beyond that, Nina hadn't a clue as to what they were going on about. But she could tell from the looks on their faces, the amusement and zeal in their gazes, that whatever world they had stepped into was one of all their own. One that was brilliant and exciting and awesome—one that they could easily lose themselves into.

She noted, especially, how enthusiastic Oliver came to be with that fervent gleam in his eyes and that earnest pitch in his tone. That sudden flicker of liveliness in him was there for everyone to see, unabashed and forthright as it had always been. It was that same flare that she always found admirable.

But, at the same time, it was quite possibly the opposite of how he was moments earlier.

Quidditch was his life. It made him ecstatic, not pensive. At least, not to the degree that she saw before. So if that was the case, then what _was_ Oliver Wood musing about?

Nina wasn't quite given much time to wonder about such musings. Soon enough, the sound of the bell echoed throughout the Hall, signaling the start of the new term.

Alex joined Lizzie and Fee on their trek to History of Magic, the more convenient route to his Muggle Studies class. And the twins soon said their goodbyes as well and headed for the opposite corridor for Care of Magical Creatures.

With everything in her satchel, Nina got up from the bench and found Oliver waiting patiently beside her.

"A bit odd to be back, isn't it?" he commented as they walked out of the Great Hall.

"A little. But I'm glad to be back. It feels like I haven't been here in ages."

"I'm a bit surprised to hear that from you, to be honest," he said with a faint air of amusement about him. "From what you tell me, you spend quite a bit of time at Hogwarts throughout the year. I figured you'd be a bit tired of it."

"Hmm… I don't think I could ever get tired of Hogwarts. But I'll admit getting out of the castle during the break is a nice change for once." A thought struck her and she patted his arm in remembrance. "Ah… speaking of break. How was the New Year's Eve party at Katie's?"

"It was alright," he said absentmindedly. "A lot of people there but it was fun, I guess."

"Did Katie like her present then?" she asked with a prominent smile.

Honestly, she didn't mean to pry. But she had been wondering if her initial instincts were correct since the day they bought the little charm weeks back. Oliver could see this for himself well enough, though for some reason it made it all the more difficult for him.

"She does like it. At least that's what she told me."

"So… everything went according to plan then?"

"'Course it did," he muttered more to himself than aloud.

Nina stared at him, slightly confused at his response. But when nothing else came afterwards, she almost furrowed her brows. Silence wasn't like him. Not one bit.

Their pace down the halls had become sluggish, until it finally became nonexistent. As they stood off to the side in the busy halls, Nina peered up at him with a curious flicker in her eyes.

"Owl…?"

His gaze fell upon her instantly. Had she been calling him that since the start of the morning? Of course she had, he realized. But nothing came to mind. Not the truth, not a lie. Nothing of the sort.

His mind felt numb. Stuck, even. Like it had been overwhelmed and overworked to the nub after running for ages. He was befuddled—and he had no bloody clue as to how or why. It was an unexpected juxtaposition, really. This was Oliver Roderick Wood, after all—Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper, practically one of the most charismatic and respected seventh years in Hogwarts. Yet there he was, unable to form a sentence—a complete and total loss for words—in front of a Miss Nina Fey.

_Fuck._

"Ollie," a familiar voice called out nearby.

Nina turned her head away from him and greeted the pretty blonde approaching them with her usual kindly smile, which was returned rather luminously. With their attentions turned elsewhere, neither girl caught the look of helpless demure that had slipped past the tall brunette's features.

"Morning Nina, morning Ollie," she greeted.

Oliver mustered up a small smile in return. "Hey Katie."

Nina saw the look on both their faces. The layer of distilled silence between them was as thick as the morning fog in the Forbidden Forest; inevitable, impossible to dismiss. And from that moment, she understood. Oliver didn't have to say it nor did Katie. She just knew. But despite that, she couldn't help but smile anyway.

"I… should probably get going. I forgot I wanted to ask Professor McGonagall something about homework, so I'll see you in class, Oliver. Oh," she gave a gentle pat to Katie's arm as she walked past and smiled, "happy belated birthday, Katie."

The younger Gryffindor blinked in surprise.

"Ah—thanks, Nina," she smiled in appreciation. "Um… I'll see you later then."

With a curt nod and a wave goodbye, Nina turned and headed down the hall. For a brief moment, she had the strongest urge to stop in her place, to glance over her shoulder. But she quickly shook it off, gripped the strap of her satchel, and continued on towards the Transfiguration classroom.

**— ~ —**

"Nate lied, didn't he?"

Nina tore her gaze from her Potions homework and blinked repeatedly. It was the middle of the afternoon that day and she had settled into her usual table in the library, catching up on the Transfiguration homework that had been assigned. Seeing her best friends before her, grinning a grin she has seen one too many times, was quite uncommon that time of day. Or on any day, really.

She soon shook her head and came to her senses. "Ah, sorry…?"

"His letter," Felicia went on to explain as she settled on the chair in front of hers. "He used an Illusion Charm on it, didn't he?"

Nina smiled. "How did you know?"

"Because he's predictable," she said with a shrug. "And because he's my brother. It doesn't surprise me one bit that he charmed your letter."

"From what Fee told me, they use Illusion Charms on post quite often at International Affairs," Lizzie settled on the chair beside Nina. "It's a specialty of theirs in that department, apparently."

"I just remembered about it when we were reviewing them in Flitwick's class. I _knew_ there was something off about that letter of his. It was much too bland, even for him. The nerve of that guy though! I'm nearly eighteen and he still doesn't trust me enough to pass on a simple message."

"He doesn't quite mean it like that though, Fee," Nina said reassuringly. "The letter was…"

"Filled with love?" Lizzie suggested.

"That's one way to look at it, sure," she replied lightheartedly.

"So you two are exchanging love letters now?"

The notion made Nina laugh softly to herself. For a brief moment, there was a quick and subtle bitter-sweet taste in her mouth that reminded her of peppermint. But the sentiment faded quickly when she shook her head.

"We aren't exchanging love letters. Or anything of the sort."

"Hmm… Well, from what you told us about that night, I'm not that surprised. But I have to admit, I thought for sure you and Nate were rather taken with one another."

"We were. We still are, I think. But… not for the same reasons that we had in the past. Not anymore, at least."

Lizzie sighed. "You two would've made a handsome couple, I have to agree. But I'm just glad things ended in an amicable note between you two. I wonder if Nate's miffed at all about this whole thing."

"Actually, I think it's the opposite," Nina replied with faint trace of amusement in her voice. "From the letter he sent me, he sounds happy. Like his normal self and all—maybe even happier. And to be honest, I think he's found someone else as well."

"Oh, he mentioned that in my letter too. He's had his eye on the receptionist on his department's floor for a bit. I wasn't quite sure if it was anything serious, but…" Fee casted a curious look at her friend, "hold on a sec—by you saying someone else '_as well,_' then…"

At this, though, Nina smiled an imperceptible smile and began to pack her inkwell and notebooks.

In truth, something as momentous as that night couldn't possibly be kept from her best friends. And to some extent, she still couldn't believe it even happened at all. She told them everything that came to mind that night, without a doubt. But there was only one thing that she kept from them. One _small_ detail.

"Maybe… me and Nate always had someone else we were taken with," she said as she got up from her seat. "And maybe we just… didn't realize that until now."

Before either of her friends could utter another word, the bell echoed throughout Hogwarts Castle, signaling to the end of their break period. Nina had already gathered her satchel and textbook from the table, leaving them with the same light, imperceptible smile. But Lizzie and Fee could only stare at their friend's retreating figure with a sense of dumbfounded surprise, still reeling in her words.

"Did she just…?"

"Admit that she…?"

"Fancies someone…?"

It seemed as though they came to the same conclusion in that moment from the matching expressions on their faces. Had anyone seen them, it would've been quite the comical sight indeed.

"It couldn't be—!"

"But it makes sense—!"

They quickly gathered their bags and robes they had draped on their chairs. But a thought soon crossed Felicia's mind and she let out an audible huff, already muttering a few_colorful_ choice of words that were quite unusual of the petite blonde. Though in that regard, she blamed it on spending so much time with Alex, Oliver, and the twins. Who knew she had such a wide and creative vocabulary?

"What's that?" Lizzie asked in amusement.

"I owe Alex two galleons," Fee groused.

Lizzie chuckled. "Well if it makes you feel any better, I do too. Now c'mon."

With their bags and textbooks in hand, the girls hurried to catch up with the friend. They saw her nearing the entrance of the library and wasted no time voicing their thoughts and opinions.

"Nina Edeline Fey!"

"It's about bloody time!"

Madam Pince sent a withering look at the Gryffindors, rather annoyed at the disruptive behaviors and outbursts in her realm of peace and quiet. But quite honestly the girls couldn't care less.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	16. Chapter 16

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 – Stubborn As Always<strong>

* * *

><p>"Well… You've fucked yourself over a bit there, haven't you?"<p>

That was quite possibly the least productive thing Oliver had ever heard in his life.

"Thanks for that, Brooks," he muttered.

Alex grinned and continued to fiddle with the owl plush in his hands. It was about a quarter to 8 on a Tuesday night, and they had been going back and forth on the subject since they left dinner. Being the kindhearted friend Alexander Brooks was, he listened to a friend in need. Or rather he prodded and questioned the topic itself until he realized Oliver was a friend in need. But nevertheless, it had gotten the result he wanted, much to Oliver's chagrin.

Quite frankly, the Gryffindor Captain didn't think he needed assistance in any way. It wasn't as if this was an exact science that needed to be double-checked somehow. They were talking about _girls_ for Merlin's sake. In what way would he possibly need help in that regard?

"Can't say I didn't warn you though. But this isn't the NEWT exams, Oliver. It's not that complicated."

But apparently, he needed help after all.

"You do realize you just compared the NEWT exams to girls, don't you?"

"No, I compared the _simplicity_ of girls to the NEWT exams. Big difference."

Oliver snorted. "I'm sure Lizzie would love to hear that."

Alex cleared his throat and pointed at him with the owl's plush wing. "We're not talking about my romantic interest at the moment, we're talking about yours. And quite frankly, that's something you're close to mucking up if you're not careful."

Oliver let out another ungentlemanly snort and laid back onto his four-poster bed. But the simple gesture only made Alex chuckle to himself. He brought the owl plush to eye-level, his sapphire orbs bearing into the toy's cartoonish eyes stitched in bronze and white as if they were in some deadlocked staring contest.

It was a cute little toy thing, in some sense. Small and soft and interesting to look at, if one were the type to fancy such a thing. And it was most certainly something a Quidditch Captain would _not _have on a regular basis. But he needn't a guess as to where his friend had gotten it from. Or rather _who_ he got it from. He had seen that answer for himself well enough for the past few weeks.

"I didn't exactly say this was all complicated for me," Oliver pointed out after a while.

"Oh? You mean that whole bit about Katie?" A small hint of a smile came across Alex's features. "If that's the case, then I could ask any of the girls in the common room to call her from her dorm, just so you could tell her all this yourself?"

Oliver grunted. Perhaps he couldn't do _that_ specifically now.

"Coward."

"Prick."

Alex smirked. Silence settled between them, with only the sounds of the heater's fire in the middle of the room crackling and spurring to life. Thoughts were brewing in the back of both their minds, but it was the sandy-haired teen who voiced his aloud again.

"In all seriousness, you know what I think?"

"I'd be off my bleedin' trolley if I always knew what you think, Alex," the Gryffindor chuckled as he closed his eyes.

Ignoring the comment, Alex leant forward with the plush owl still in his hands, staring at it intently. Almost as if he was speaking to it as well. "I think it really did bother you seeing Nina happy with some other bloke. But you're not acknowledging it, because then you'd have to acknowledge the fact that you don't see Nina as just another classmate or just any other person."

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. "Enlighten me then, Alex. What would I see Nina Fey as?"

Alex snorted and began to toss the owl plushie up and down in the air out of boredom. "I don't know, Wood. How 'bout an actual _girl_ for once?"

At this, Oliver came to his senses and blinked. Those words began to sink in, but it was far from the casual and senseless words he had been hearing for the past few hours.

Of course Nina Fey was a girl. Who was daft enough to see otherwise? Granted, Oliver knew what his friend was really referring to. But the whole notion itself was still strange.

He couldn't deny that Nina was quite lovely and attractive in her own right, perhaps a bit more plain and meek than some girls but nevertheless still appealing. And she was much more interesting and curious than she originally lets on—this, he found out himself the moment he met her. Garnering some form of romantic interest could hardly be a challenge for her—she was a _girl_, of course, and a great one at that. But truth be told, Oliver hadn't equated such simple facts into a situation he might find himself in. He never believed he needed to.

Perhaps that was the point Alex was trying to make after all. Shaking his head at the thought, Oliver sat up in his bed and glanced in his friend's direction.

"You're missing something in that theory of yours though." Alex rose a curious brow, to which Oliver mirrored in response with a more scrutinizing twitch. "You're basing your logic on bullshit."

"But a theory isn't a theory if it's true, Wood. It becomes fact. That little detail of yours is irrelevant."

Oliver chuckled wryly. "A theory needs proof to be proven true."

The sandy-haired Gryffindor smirked to himself. "Well, I think you've given us the proof rather well enough."

"In what way?"

"You see—that's the beauty with girls, Wood." Alex stood up from his own bed and tossed the owl back to its rightful owner. "They keep us on our toes. Makes us really work for it and think. The ones worth keeping, anyway."

"And you think that applies to me in this case 'cause…?"

"Ah, but that takes the fun out of finding it out on your own, mate. And if I did that, what kinda friend would I be?"

Oliver smirked and shook his head. "Where are you headed off to then?"

"Gonna go collect a debt," Alex replied over his shoulder, not even bothering to hide the grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Unbothered by his friend's sudden choice of activities—which he knew well enough not to mind after seeing that grin of his—the Gryffindor Captain exhaled and laid back onto his bed. The plush owl doll caught behind his head, making him pull it out from beneath him. As he stared at its round stitched eyes, he found himself contemplating the previous conversation at face value.

It was helpful, to some degree. Oliver wasn't quite the type to constantly gush on any personal sentiment, even if it was with his closest of friends. So, in some regard, even he had to admit that talking with his best mate provided some type of outlet.

But the fact of the matter had yet to change. And even though he refused to relent to Alex's reasoning, he acknowledged that perhaps—_perhaps_—Alex was right in some regard. Nevertheless, it wouldn't quite alter anything that's already been said and done; especially with how things between him and Katie had gotten a sudden change in pace.

Since their return from winter break, the pretext of crossing that thinly drawn line of amorosity had, once again, been toyed with. Yet for Katie and Oliver, it was like some unspoken fallacy, the general topic that they still danced around, unabashed and unannounced. It was almost like a game of sorts, seeing who could last the longest in the conversation, where mentioning that subject or uttering choice words would deem them the loser. And as the last few weeks had proved, it was inevitably played.

But recently Oliver found little reasons why to keep up with the charades, the games. Perhaps it was because he simply grew weary of the constant elusion; perhaps it was because a part of him wanted to see where all of this would end up. Or, perhaps, he simply just wanted an excuse, a validation of what he really wanted, of what he really felt. Whatever the case, it didn't stop him from considering the indefinite possibility.

**— ~ —**

That next morning, robes of scarlet and gold were seen flickering about on the Quidditch pitch since the early hours of dawn. The Gryffindors wasted no time in their training regimes. Running laps, running plays, running strategies—it was the usual arduous routine that they had gone through since the start of the year.

Oliver in particular had delved deep into Quidditch that morning, keeping his mind preoccupied on his life's greatest passion. Despite how shamelessly Quidditch circumvented his priorities at that time, he figured it was attention well spent. It had almost been a month since their last practice—close to three months since their last match—and a word to describe that morning's round of runs, drills, and plays was mediocre at best.

The fact that Harry's prized Firebolt had been taken from him for inspection of foul ploys (something Oliver deemed absolutely ridiculous and idiotic) made matters no better. Honestly, who would think of such a scheme for a _Firebolt_, of all things? It was practically unheard of! Yet, despite his protests, Professor McGonagall had been firm in her ruling and would not hear otherwise—most especially from him.

By and large, it wasn't the best start of the day for Oliver. There were quite a few things on his mind at this point, but he really didn't wish to overindulge on them any more than necessary.

"Owl."

He turned around, shaking loose all thoughts within those few split seconds, and caught sight of warm brown orbs. Despite himself, a faint smile played across his lips.

"Feeling better, lass?"

Nina laughed softly to herself, pushing up her dark-framed glasses to rub the lingering strain out of her eyes. But she was nevertheless honest as she gave a curt nod of her head. "I've been pent up on Pepperup and Lemon Balm Potions all week, but I'm feeling a lot better."

Oliver chuckled. "Glad to see you're well then. I knew you'd be up and about in no time, but I still had my worries."

"I'm fine. Promise," she reassured.

A moment of quiet threatened to settle between them, an occurrence that was starting to become less and less of a stranger between as of late. But Nina quickly recalled the red-covered notebook atop the Ancient Runes textbook tucked to her chest. She glanced up at the tall brunette beside her and mustered up a weak smile.

"Ah… I never thanked you for letting me borrow your notes. I finished them earlier, so I was hoping to run into you before classes started."

"Explains the ink then," he said, clearly making no attempts to hide his amusement.

"Ink?"

Before Oliver could stop himself—a rather unbeatable impulse on his behalf—he rose a hand to her face, brushing his fingertips against the black streak contrasting her pale cheeks. The simple gesture caught her off-guard, leaving her cheeks flushed to a rosy tinge for reasons she couldn't quite admit and rousing an all-too-familiar tug in her chest.

She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her robes, saying rather sheepishly, "I guess I wasn't paying much attention…"

"I thought only first years made that ink-to-the-face mistake," he chuckled as he took out his wand, muttering a quick _scourgify_. Despite the small pout she made, she quietly thanked him for the help nonetheless.

"I blame it on the Pepperup Potions," she reasoned with a nod. "They muck with anyone's thinking abilities 'cause of all the steam that vents through your system…"

"Ah, so that's what you're gonna go with, is it?" he said as he pocketed his wand in his robes. "You didn't just make that up just now, did you?"

"'Course not," she said innocuously.

They shared a sort of elusive smile between them, and for the briefest of moments that bout of silence began to enclose upon the two teens. Nina was inflicted with a sudden sense of unease—the same unease that took hold of her chest and addled her contemplations. That stillness hung in the air, and that numbness of unspoken words lingering at the tip of her tongue. A part of her wondered if it was an inevitable after-effect of her recent realizations. But, at the same time, a part of her knew that there was nothing to blame. As much as she wanted to say something else, to do something else, she couldn't quite bring herself to just yet.

With a weak smile upon her features (done more for her sake than his, quite honestly), she motioned to the open corridor behind them. "Well, I should get going. I need to see Professor Flitwick about a test I missed on Monday, so…"

"I'll walk you," Oliver said as he tucked his notebook into his knapsack.

Nina couldn't deny the sudden lurch she felt in her stomach as she met his gaze once more. But she could only shake her head, almost as if she were shaking off her body's involuntary reactions, along with the offer she just heard.

"It's okay. You don't have to, really. I'm just going there to talk with him for a bit. And I don't want you to miss out on breakfast, so—"

"Being stubborn again, eh?" He grinned at the slight glare she made—which turned out to be more of a huff than anything else—and just rose his hands defensively. "Just sayin'. I just wanna make sure you get there and not pass out 'cause of your flu again. Didn't mean to impose."

At hearing such an explanation, her expression softened. After a silent moment passed between them, she finally relented. "Alright. Thank you." As they continued down the corridors, a slight pout made way across her face once more and she glanced his way. "But I'm not stubborn."

"'Course you're not, lass."

**— ~ —**

"Oi, Katie!"

The pretty blonde slowed her pace and glanced over her shoulder. A bright smile tempted to grace its presence across her features, tugging at the corners of her lips and creeping about as it did, but she simply shook her head and sighed. "And what could my favorite pair of twins possibly want this morning?"

Within seconds, she felt an arm drape across her shoulders as she was being led down the corridors.

_Oh, Merlin…_

"Just out of curiosity—you wouldn't happen to have finished that DADA packet, have you?"

"Actually, I have," she said quite proudly. "I finished it last week."

"Last week?" one twin uttered in absolute, dumbfounded confusion. "How in Merlin's name did you finish it last week?"

Katie simply grinned and patted Fred's shoulder. "Unlike you two, I've been trying _not_ to scrounge up an assignment the day it's due. I haven't needed to in quite a while, actually."

"That's a bit of a shocker, isn't it?" George grinned. "Who knew you could be so studious, Kates?"

She wrinkled her nose at the nickname. George had taken a liking to calling her that since third year, on almost any and all occasions. Not that she was bothered by it, of course, but honestly—Kates?

She said nothing else on the matter and instead poked the red-headed twin between his ribs, narrowing her eyes challengingly as she went on to say, "Was that a hint of derision I hear, Georgie? Remarks like that won't get you my homework, y'know."

"I was only joking," he chuckled.

"He wasn't, really." George responded promptly with a small punch to his brother's shoulder. "Oi, watch it there. No need to be so touchy," Fred grumbled as he feigned hurt, tending to his 'wounded' shoulder.

The short exchange only roused a soft laugh to bubble in the back of her throat. _Brothers,_ she thought with a sense of endearment.

"Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted by my brother's cattiness," George offered another half-hearted jab to his twin's arm, earning him a familiar grin he could very well mimic in return, "what was that about the DADA packet again?"

There were a few drawbacks at having two dorks as her friends, of course, but strangely enough Katie wouldn't have it any other way.

"Only 'cause I'm in a good mood and you two are my friends," she sighed.

"That's a good thing then," George shrugged.

"What, for you two, you mean?"

"For the moment, sure," Fred replied. "Anything is better than having you in a _bad_ mood. It can be pretty horrible when a girl gets mad. It's like Mum, y'know? Releasing the bloody krak—"

Fred stopped himself short after seeing the look on his friend's face. With a quick scratch to the back of his head, he cleared his throat and improvised—a bit of a talent on his part, really. "Kraker Pixies. I was gonna say Kraker Pixies. Completely harmless little buggers."

Despite the semi-glare Katie sent them, the little quip hardly left a dent in her optimal mood. "That's what I thought you said."

If anything, as of late, Katie felt like there was hardly a thing that left her peeved in life. Her classes were going over incredibly well for once, she loved all her friends and Housemates to death, and even though her family had gone through a rough patch (if one can call it that—she simply called it stubbornness) her parents and older sister were finally on speaking terms again.

Of course there were aspects she wished she had more clearance on; and by that, she had a certain Quidditch Captain in mind. But even then, in spite of the expectations and the need for some type of explanation, Katie wasn't the slightest bit bothered by it. Life was good. She was happy. And by her book, that was all that mattered.

Though she admits it didn't quite stop the ponderings that occurred time and again. There was always that moment, that unexpected twinge of confusion that struck Katie whenever she talked to Oliver. It was like some unspoken flaw, a silent scruple of character that left her wondering about the very guy she thought she knew all too well.

Oliver was holding back. He was hesitating—she could tell. And even though Katie felt that ire and anguish were justifiable responses, she was inflicted with neither. Honestly, she felt nothing of the sort. She was curious. "What" and "how" were long gone from her list of inquiries. What she wanted to know was "why."

_Where's Alex when you need him?—_she thought with a mental sigh.

Of course, she truly appreciated Angie and Alicia's words of advice (and quite often taking them heart). But she couldn't deny that a talk with Alex would have served more purpose in her situation. He wasn't only Katie's friend, but he was Oliver's as well. And who better to talk guy-issues with than said guy's best mate?

"Oi, Lizzie—"

"Fee—"

Katie came to her senses and lifted her downcast eyes. The seventh year girls soon turned around at the sound of their names, smiling in greeting at the younger teens and offering their forms of "good morning."

"How'd practice go for you guys?" Fee asked.

"Ruthless," Fred muttered in reply, rolling his already sore shoulder around in its socket.

"Wood's at it again with his training programs," George sighed as he propped an arm on Fee's shoulder. "Remind me not to joke about our training hours with Wood. Or about Harry's Firebolt. Ever."

Lizzie chuckled at their dramatic elucidations. "Ah, give it a few days. Knowing Wood, he'll ease up on the whole Firebolt thing once you guys slip back into your practices again. He riles up and cools down more easily nowadays."

"Tell that to my sore muscles," Fred said this more to himself than aloud. But nevertheless his friends heard him, earning him an "aww" and quick sympathetic hug from Fee.

"Is Alex with you two, by any chance?"

Fee shook her head, leaving Lizzie to further explain. "He has Double Potions on Wednesday mornings. He's already left for the Dungeons, I'm afraid."

"Oh…"

Katie wasn't devastated—far from it, actually—but she was a bit disappointed. She had hoped that a talk with Alex would clear her thoughts on the matter, but it was something would have to wait a bit longer, as it turned out.

Noticing her friend's flat tone, Lizzie furrowed her brows faintly and nudged the fifth year's arm gently. "Hey. Is something wrong?"

"What? Oh—no, it's nothing like that. I just wanted to ask Alex, um…" Her words came to a quiet halt as she reconsidered them carefully. There was little harm in asking Lizzie, wasn't there? From what she's aware of, Lizzie and Oliver have been close friends for quite a while themselves—perhaps talking to her would be of help as well.

_Why not?_

"I mean, I was just wondering," Katie began to say as they strayed a few steps away from their friends. She may be willing to tell one person, but not everyone.

A twinge of worry was laced in Lizzie's voice. "Are you sure you're okay, Katie?"

The pretty blonde just laughed quietly to herself and nodded. "I'm perfectly fine, Lizzie. It's just that I… wanted to ask Alex about Oliver."

Lizzie blinked. "Oliver?"

"Yeah. I just… needed a little more insight, you know? I mean, I trust you and your opinion. We've been pretty close friends since my third year. And you seem to be close friends with Oliver as well, so… What do you think?"

"About Oliver?"

"Yeah. He's… Well, he's _completely_ hard to read when it comes to girls he fancies."

"I've known that since I met him," Lizzie mused with a faint smile.

Katie grinned at the sentiment. "Believe me, I've known that myself all too well. But… I don't know… I do care about him an awful lot—I really do. But I just wonder about it sometimes," she sighed quietly to herself and glanced at the older witch. "Has he said anything? To you or Alex?"

"Well, no, not to me. Alex may know something about that, though. At least, I'd assume so. They're tight-knit, those two. "

"Then… Do you think we should give it another chance? Me and Oliver?"

In that moment, it was as if Katie's words left Lizzie in some type of petrification curse. The older teen's expression remained attentive, thoughtful almost, but despite this she wasn't quite sure how to respond.

She was stuck, essentially. Katie may have been younger than her but Lizzie adored her as a friend. She was funny and kind, and such an enjoyable person to be around altogether. But Nina was her best friend—one of the sweetest people she's ever met, and one of the few people in the entire world she could whole-heartedly trust and respect and rely on.

That exact moment, that exact scenario, was what Lizzie dreaded most of all. Choosing sides, choosing friends—she couldn't possibly think of such a thing, much less follow through with it. The only fair thing that Lizzie was willing to offer was honesty.

"I… think it's gonna be difficult," she began to say. "For you two, it's not a question of whether you two have things in common or if you two care about one another. I think it's more of whether or not you two care _enough_ to try again."

At this, Katie slowly nodded her head. "I suppose that's true. I never quite thought of it that way. But… why do you think that's difficult?"

A weak smile soon surfaced across Lizzie's features. "I didn't exactly say it was gonna be difficult for you specifically."

The puzzled look that dawdled across Katie's face wasn't concealed in any way. But Lizzie shook her head. Caramel locks fell into pensive cerulean eyes, and the quiet hum of the corridors filled the gap of contemplations. "It's all up to you two, y'know. Honestly, if you and Oliver do like each other, I don't see why you can't be together. I'll be rooting for both of you regardless. But I say… just talk to Oliver about it. You never know until you try, right?"

Katie rolled her eyes playfully. "I think that might actually be the more difficult part then. As charming and charismatic as he may be, he can be quite the difficult bloke to talk to at times."

Lizzie smiled and wrapped her arms around her friend in a comforting hug. "All the more reason to actually try, missy."

A small laugh brewed in the back of her throat as she parted from her. "I'll bear that in mind then."

"You sure you're alright?"

Despite the sigh that drew past her lips, Katie couldn't help but feel humbled—grateful, even—for the older teen's concern. Truth be told, a part of her actually felt like she made the right decision in talking to Lizzie before Alex. His words were always true and good-hearted, however blunt they were. But perhaps feminine subtlety helped more than forthright honesty could.

"I'm fine. Lizzie, really—don't worry," she insisted with a smile.

"Alright. If you need to talk, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Lizzie."

With a wave in parting, Lizzie went ahead to join Fee and the twins. The older girls soon continued down the halls for their first class of the day, leaving the fifth years on their own once more.

By this point, Katie's questions and doubts were somewhat satiated. She understood that putting off a talk with Oliver couldn't be possibly done now, of all times. And honestly, she wanted nothing more than to finally clear this—whatever _this_ was—between them.

But, at the same time, Katie grew ever more curious as she mulled over the conversation in mind. What exactly did Lizzie mean when she said it would be difficult? Of course she acknowledged that talking to Oliver about anything was going to be difficult—but was that really what she meant?

Perhaps she was trying to say the scenario would be difficult to experience. She could only imagine that picking up the pieces of a forgotten relationship was far from easy—and Merlin knows that the relationship between her and Oliver Wood was by no means simple. Or, perhaps, Lizzie meant that it was going to be difficult for Oliver. He wasn't exactly the type to openly speak about how he felt on a regular basis—everyone who knew him was all too well aware of this themselves.

Whatever the case, the curiosity she had was still strong, still relentless—much more than before. And, if anything, she was more interested in quelling her questions, her curiosity, more than anything else. But a part of her, that lingering part of her that dwelled on the possibility of "what-if," was the thing she wanted to resolve most of all.

"You comin' Kates?"

Katie's train of thought came to a gradual cease as she met dark auburn orbs. With an apologetic smile and nod of her head, she continued to trail after the twins, tempted to lose herself in her thoughts once more. But as they stepped onto the halls that enclosed the Transfiguration Courtyard, she caught sight of a familiar face across the way.

There was a simple look upon his features—a smile, a mirthful flicker she had seen time and again. It was such a short exchange that she saw, merely seconds, fleeting moments. But such a simple thing spoke well beyond words, even to those who saw nothing of significance. By that, she couldn't help but feel surprised. And perhaps that was what surprised her most—the simplicity of it; the naturalness. She felt no doubt, no malice, no melancholy; just pure, simple surprise.

Everything from the past, what was happening right then and what could happen in the future, suddenly became the most obvious thing in the entire world. She felt no desire to become upset or livid or confused—or any of the palpable sentiments given for such circumstances. Now that she looks back on it, she wasn't quite sure there ever was a proper response for such realizations.

_I should've known…_

But everything—_everything_—that she had seen and heard and experienced bounded to the forefront of her mind. And despite the initial shock she felt, the recollections made her smile in spite of herself. It was a faint smile, with a lingering sort of acquiescence and knowing, but it was a genuine smile nonetheless.

The words that drew past her lips came naturally as she shook her head and turned to catch up with her friends.

"Oliver, you idiot."

**— ~ —**

Oliver's wish for an excuse, a pastime of sorts, to keep his mind preoccupied was certainly satisfied. The amount of work that had been assigned that day was practically debilitating.

On top of McGonagall's five parchment pages on Metamorphmagi and Human Transfigurations, he had gotten behind in his work for History of Magic (as sleeping in class tends to do that to a person). In turn, it earned him more packets and another essay as a sort of redemption for his grade. And along with that, he was kept back in Potions for a little mishap with the Elixir of Euphoria he was creating. Although it's noteworthy to say that he really didn't wish to comply with the latter option.

_Bloody Kiersley_, Oliver cursed.

Snape had him partnered with Heathrow Keirsley, a Slytherin whose skill in Potions was about as nonexistent as his manners. How he managed to snag a spot in NEWT Potions was beyond him. But Oliver was more astounded at the fact that the bloody prick didn't know the difference between a simple brew and an elixir. He turned his back for a few seconds to get a few mint sprigs for the sodding potion, and Kiersley had the gall to say he was the one to blame when the potion had burnt.

By the time dinner slowly drew to a close, Oliver could practically hear his bed calling out to him. Sleep, especially at that moment, seemed to be the only satisfying thought that came to mind.

With everything in his knapsack, the Gryffindor Captain stood up from the bench, ready to trail behind his friends. But he soon found his footsteps stalling for a moment as he caught sight of a slim, all-too-familiar frame. He recalled all that had happened that day, along with all the reasons why. And despite his low capacity for emotional inhibition, he reasoned that that time was just as good as any.

_Now or never, Wood._

"Katie."

The younger Gryffindor turned and smiled slightly as she slowed her pace. "Hey Ollie. Something wrong?"

"Well… mind if we talk?"

Katie tried to conceal the surge of surprise coursing through her mind. She glanced at her friends a step or so ahead of them and offered them a small apologetic look. But they could sense the sudden heavy air between them and understood it well enough.

"See you in a bit then, Katie," Angelina said.

Both she and Alicia said their partings to their Quidditch Captain and left the two on their own.

Silence dwelled between them for a few seconds. Their footsteps echoed through the lonesome corridors and their pace was relatively sluggish, an unintentional side-effect of stalled time. But they were both nevertheless still keen on the matter at hand.

"Look, about this whole thing—"

"I wanted to talk to you about—"

They glanced at each other and chuckled. Oliver never expected it to be an easy conversation to have, but he had to admit, it was a bit of a relief to break through that thin barrier of awkwardness and smile somehow.

"You go first," he said.

"Alright," Katie stared up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. "Then let me say this first: you are an _idiot_."

Her last words were precise, drawled, and emphasized with a single punch to his arm. It hardly left a physical dent on the Gryffindor Captain, but it certainly caught his attention.

"Oi." He rose a hand to rub the spot she had struck. "What's all that about, Bell?"

"You could've told me the truth, y'know. About how you really feel and everything," Katie said with a hint of scolding.

"Well… I was about to do that until someone punched me in the arm…"

"I hardly think that would ever stop you. But I wasn't talking about how you felt about me, you know."

Oliver furrowed his brows in confusion. "Run that by me again?"

The pretty blonde soon smiled faintly to herself. She didn't think it would take him this long to understand what she was trying to get to. But then again, she realized that Oliver Wood was less than tactful and keen when it came to the opposite sex. This, she learnt from experience.

"Nina Fey," Katie finally said. "You fancy her, Oliver. Anyone with common sense could see that for themselves."

From those choice words, Oliver felt his stomach coil. Something in him grew defensive—panicked, perhaps—much to the point where he was willing to say anything to make her think otherwise. Whether he would utter complete lies or whole truths, he hadn't a clue. Nothing came to mind when he wished to. His throat tightened, and for that one moment he turned his head away, unable to find anything to say in response. Katie smiled slightly when she saw that. They both knew what that meant.

She exhaled. "Honestly, I… I've always wondered 'what-if' whenever I think of you, Oliver. Ever since we broke up, I always wondered… if that was really it," she smiled weakly and turned around, taking slow and careful steps backwards. "I even hated you a bit because of that. A part of me wanted to know the truth, the _real_ truth, but you really had no idea yourself. I hated you at first because of that."

Oliver lifted his gaze from the stone ground, unflinching as he found her stare on him. "And now?"

"I don't hate you, Ollie. I never could. Not truly, anyway. But I did think you were a jerk during that time, so I suppose I owe you a bit of an apology for that part."

The corners of his lips twitched aloft. "No harm done."

Katie began to smile along with him, thankful that things were easing along as best as they were. At least, she thought so. Screams and shouts weren't exchanged, and Merlin knows how many of their past arguments had resorted to such levels. For the most part, she was happy to finally get something out among amicable lines. But she knew things would get that much more complicated with where her train of thought led her.

With a quiet sight leaving her lips, she turned and pulled him aside in the corridors. "I like you, Oliver. I really do. No matter how many days or weeks or months or even years pass, I don't think that will ever change." She glimpsed his way and smiled weakly. "But it's not the same anymore, is it? Not for me. And not for you either as well. If I'm wrong, then I guess I sound like a fool, don't I? But… if that's the case, then could you honestly look me in the eye, right at this moment, and say that I'm wrong?"

_And there it was…_

That question—and anything much like it—was what Oliver had been silently dreading. _That_ part was the reason why he didn't want to have the conversation in the first place. He had been mulling it over to himself for days, practically losing sleep and half-way losing his mind in the process. But no matter how many times he tried to weigh one option over the other, to convince himself of what he deemed was right or wrong, it didn't change what was the utmost truth. That, he realized, was the thing he found himself regretting most of all.

"I thought I could change it, you know." He caught her honey brown eyes with a steadfast gaze. "Since we got back from the break, I thought for sure I knew how things would end up between me and you. But after a while, I got tired of trying to force everything. It was kinda like trying to get a stone block through a circle hoop. It didn't make any sense. I tried at first but…"

"But you couldn't." She smiled faintly, "Leave it to you to wedge in a Quidditch reference somehow, Ollie."

The silence that followed afterwards only seemed to have reaffirmed that thought. Noticing the slight crease of his brows, Katie chuckled and nudged his shoulder as they continued to walk down the lonesome corridors. "I'm saying that I get it, Oliver. I understand. I've… known since the start of the year, actually."

"You're not at fault this time, Katie. You really are a great girl. Bright, and funny, and incredibly witty. You're a brilliant Chaser and bloody cute as hell. Anyone with the right mind can see that for themselves."

"Merlin, you're really laying it on thick aren't you, Ollie?" she joked. But she couldn't deny the sudden prick in her eyes as she glanced away from him. "I think I can sense you saying 'but' really soon though."

He shook his head at her and grabbed her hand. As those honey brown orbs peered up at him, clouding vaguely with a thin sheen of tears, he couldn't feel any more guiltier.

"I'm sorry, Katie."

At hearing those words, she straightened up in her place. The glossiness in her eyes was easily blinked back but a part of her felt really silly—almost to the point where she wanted to laugh at herself. She couldn't believe she was actually crying!

Everything he had told her were things she had known for quite a while. And, in truth, none of it came as a surprise. There was a potent cocktail of emotions in her at that moment—happiness, sadness, embarrassment, confusion—but none of them could properly explain why she was tearing up as she was. Relief? Sadness? She wasn't quite sure.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked as she dabbed at her eyes. "I'm not sorry for it."

"'Cause you got hurt."

Her gaze softened. The sincerity he had in that moment was rare. It was a side of him that she had seen only twice in the past—the first when she told him how she felt over a year ago, and the last when they ended it all months later. But even after all that time and all that had happened it was never a side of him that she doubted or second-guessed.

"It's fine. _I'm_ fine," she reassured. "If anything, I'm just glad we've finally gotten to this point. I never would've forgiven myself if I lived my whole wondering 'what if.' I mean… even though we didn't work out, at least I tried. _We_ tried. But I'll be okay." She took a deep breath, finally feeling ease and calm settle into upon her nerves. A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she tried to make light of the situation. "To be honest, I don't feel the least bit bothered now. You're not all that, Oliver Wood."

Oliver smiled faintly at the sentiment. "Well aren't you cheeky…"

"Merlin…" She chuckled softly to herself and wiped at her eyes again. "It took you this long to figure out everything though, didn't it?"

"I think it took me this long just to actually get the nerve to tell you."

"Well… I suppose it's better late than never, hm?"

They soon approached staircase that led to the Gryffindor portrait hole. Oliver reached to grab her hand once more, stopping her in her place in an instant.

"I'm still here for you, y'know. Despite all the bullshit and all the nonsense, that doesn't change."

For the first time in a long while, Katie smiled wholeheartedly. She gave his hand a small squeeze, relishing the heat of his gruff hand seeping through her cool fingers. In that moment, she recalled the days where she soaked in that comforting warmth, days where their fingers were laced as they walked hand-in-hand down those corridors, days where they actually enjoyed whatever came their way. And for a moment, a part of her sincerely missed it.

But everything from that warmth, to his hands, to those days—they were all different. They were much too different now, she could tell. With that thought, she gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before releasing it completely.

"I know, Ollie. I always know that." She took a few steps ahead of him before glancing back and grinning a grin he had seen one too many times—one that he actually started to miss. "I suppose this means you're free to patch things up with the person that really matters then, huh?"

At this, though, Oliver smiled humorlessly. He needn't a guess to figure out who Kate meant. But he didn't bother to make sense of how he truly felt, nor did he bother to give Katie a forthright answer. He was much too tired to now.

"It's not like it really matters though," he said. "She already has someone she fancies. I've already met him myself. Good guy, I s'ppose. If she's happy then I can't really complain, can I?"

Katie stared at him oddly. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

"No one," he replied simply. "I'm only stating fact."

"Fact or fiction, I hardly think it's relevant. Has she even told you that she fancies some other guy?"

"Well, no," he said rather lamely. "It's a bit obvious though."

"Then since when has fleeting crushes ever stopped you before?" she challenged with a grin.

But Oliver found less humor in it. In fact he almost found it irritating to think about. "If she fancies someone else, she wouldn't just—"

"Ollie," she closed her eyes and gathered her words. His stubbornness and tactlessness was going to cost him greatly if it continued down this rate, she knew. "I've been one of your closest friends since we were toddlers. I've _known_ you for as long as I can actually remember. Yes, we went out for a measly three months or so, but I'll be damned if I let something as petty as a broken romance interfere with a perfectly good friendship. So as your _friend_, just listen to me, alright?"

A subtle touch of amusement was in his voice. "It's not as if I have much of a choice now, do I?"

"No. Now shut up. What I'm about to say is actually quite simple."

"Alright," he replied, almost saying it more as a question than an actual statement. But it took all Katie had in her not to smile as broadly as she wanted to.

"You've changed, Oliver. And I don't mean that as a bad thing at all. Not one bit," she added quickly at seeing his quirked brow. "You've changed, but for the better."

"What are you talking about?"

"You care about things now. Well—_more_ things, I mean. I'm not saying that you're an arrogant, insensitive prick or anything. You're not—really, you're not. But… honestly, you've let Quidditch dominate your life since you could practically talk, Ollie. You love it—and I get that, we all do. But unless Quidditch had something to do with it somehow, you never really _cared_ to have an interest in anything or anyone else."

Oliver frowned, ready to protest the idea, which Katie could clearly tell for herself. But she simply shot him a pointed look and continued with her train of thought, unbothered.

"When I say that you've changed, I mean that you just _care_ more, Oliver. About the team, about all your friends and our Housemates, even school. Everything. And if you don't believe me, then think about what we did just now. Talking about us, how we feel—we never would've done it from how and where we were last year. You know that just as well as I do."

Oliver couldn't find anything to say. Was there anything he could've? He couldn't deny that her latter point was rather true. But everything else—was there really that big of a difference between who he was back then and who he was at that exact moment?

He didn't notice it. He simply did or said or thought whatever came to mind, whatever he believed was right—which, perhaps, may have been wrong. But, by his calculations and logic, he had been doing so for the past 18 years of his life. If he wasn't aware of it himself, then could he have really changed?

"I think she helped you change for the better." She smiled at a recent memory. "And I've seen how you two are when you're together. You know, you give her this look. I've never really seen it myself when we were together. Not even when you were with Kristen Goldbloom in your fifth year or Hazel Dagney in fourth. I don't even think you noticed it yourself, but I've seen it."

Hearing this caught his attention. "What 'look'?"

_Adoration_.

The word tottered at the tip of her tongue. It was a look of complete and total adoration that she saw, one she didn't realize he possessed or was even capable of having. She wanted to say that—among other things—but she couldn't bring herself to. It wasn't out of an act of jealousy that drove her to such lengths though. But it was more of an act of mercy. She had said so much already. How fair was it for someone else to tell you who you care about? How fair was it for someone to tell you if you're right or wrong in those feelings?

Katie didn't want to be in such a position. She could point out as many facts—or opinions—as she wanted on the matter. But she had no part in the final decision. Oliver needed to figure that out on his own.

"I think almost all the girls in Hogwarts would kill just to have you look at them like that, Ollie. Any girl who can _truly_ make Oliver Wood forget about himself, and Quidditch, and the Quidditch Cup, and almost anything else around him—that type of girl is hard to come by." She stood at the tips of her toes, letting her lips brush against his cheek softly and smiling as she parted from him. "But that girl most certainly isn't me."

She turned and said the password to Sir Cadogen. Frankly, it was a miracle he didn't change it to some other random word that time around. But this only left Oliver to stand there with a puzzled expression. He still couldn't quite make sense of her words. In fact, he was still trying to reel in the whole situation.

There was a sense of relief sinking into the crevices of his mind. A sense of satisfaction and finalization that made the air thinner, easier to breathe. There were no longer any unsaid words and hardly any ill-willed feelings, from what he could tell. It was all the past. It was all done.

In truth, that was all Oliver cared to make sense of for that moment. He was much too tired to think of anything else. Too tired to fight the guilt that consumed his conscience, the regret, the severity, the relief. He only had enough in him to accept all that has happened thus far. Having to contemplate his friend's words was pushing his mental capacity enough that night.

With a quiet sigh, he simply followed after Katie and stepped into the common room, leaving the matter to rest for another day. After all that had happened in the past twelve hours, he was bloody well ready to call it a day.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	17. Chapter 17

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 – Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw<strong>

* * *

><p>"So this is the famed Firebolt, is it?" Lizzie mused as she touched the wooden handle of the broom. She drew back her fingers, almost as if she were afraid it may nip at her, and simply grinned. "Awfully nice looking. I hope it isn't just for show."<p>

"With all the bloody trouble we went through to get it, I hope so too," Oliver said.

Fee quirked a brow and shook her head with a laugh. "When did this 'we' come along? It's Harry's Firebolt, isn't it?"

"Quidditch is a team sport, Wentworth," Oliver reasoned as he patted the handle with a sense of pride. "Don't need to handle it myself. It benefits the whole team if one person has one. In the hands of a seeker like Potter, the game's as good as won."

"Let him gloat this once, Fee," Alex humored as he slid onto the empty space beside Lizzie. "We don't always see Wood so cocky about a game. Every other time, he's on pin and needles. More nervous than a first year meeting Snape for the first time, I'd say."

"Well, that's an awful memory, isn't it?" Lizzie shuddered slightly and picked at her waffles with her fork. "Snape's taken a liking to giving warm welcomes to first years, the Gryffindors especially. It's enough to make anyone nervous though."

The sandy-haired teen grinned into his cup of pumpkin juice. "Enough charm to give Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money once upon a time, I figure."

Nina smiled faintly and shook her head. A rile of laughter shifted her attention to the Gryffindor team beside them and she watched as their lady Chasers nudged their Seeker with proud smiles. Even their Captain showed an approving grin.

A glint of platinum blonde disappeared into the small swarm of black and green and dark grey orbs soon flickered her way. She saw the outlines of his scowl, the narrowed look of his glare, but she couldn't make out who it was directed to specifically. Perhaps it was meant for them all, in all their Gryffindor colors and pride—Merlin knows how many times Slytherins went out of their way to share their disdain for such a sight. But by then, Nina wasn't bothered by the Slytherin mentality—and she was most certainly not bothered by Marcus Flint.

Ridding herself of the thought, the ebony-haired teen turned her gaze elsewhere. It drifted to the Quidditch Captain beside her for a moment and the traces of another smile curled her lips. Oliver Wood certainly had the mien of confidence about him as of late—especially after Harry Potter was given his Firebolt back only two days before. Since then—and even well before that—Oliver had delved deep into Quidditch once more, working on stratagems for this play or that one, figuring out the faults of one player or another. It was the side of Oliver Wood that spared no other thought for anything else beyond the world of his favorite sport.

Nina glanced at his lean profile, watching as he sipped slowly from a goblet of water. Her gaze settled on her plate of half-eaten waffles and after a moment of thought she carefully nudged a small plate of toast to the empty space in front of him. A quirked brow was thrown her way, which only made a look of something akin to reprimand and apprehension to line her features.

"You only drink water before a match."

"It's all I really need."

"It's good to have something more in your stomach when you play though."

He meant to say something against it, but in the last second he thought better of the notion. "You're not gonna let me off until I do, aren't you?" he asked instead.

She smiled faintly. "Perhaps."

Oliver managed to refrain from grinning, but his hesitation was more difficult to conceal. Truth be told, he was bloody nervous as hell. Quidditch games hardly ever made him uneasy by that point in his Hogwarts career, but the game that dawned upon them spurred a sense of anxiety he hadn't felt since his first game as Gryffindor's official Keeper years back. Water was the only thing he could keep down with the churn of anticipation, and off-handed twinge of dread, in the pit of his stomach.

But as he reached to take a triangle of toast, he tried to convince the girl beside him—and perhaps even himself—that such a thing wasn't the case at all. It helped settle his stomach somewhat, though not quite his nerves. But he leveled that down to adrenaline. And not even food or water could settle the rush of that before a game.

Oliver only ate the triangle of toast and finished the rest of his water, but that was enough to make Nina content. She turned back to her own breakfast and listened on quietly to the bits and pieces of conversations floating around her. But she didn't quite realize that she was becoming lost in thought until she heard the faint murmur of someone calling out her name.

"Sorry?" She tried to make sense of the voices in her eardrums and glanced up from the empty space beside her. "What was that?"

Standing off to the side, Oliver smiled faintly and motioned to the Great Hall's entrance. "We're gonna get going."

"Ah… right." She offered him a reassuring smile. "Good luck out there. And be careful."

Oliver gave her his usual lighthearted grin and a comforting tap to her arm before turning to join his Chasers and Seeker down the aisle. Nina watched his retreating figure for a fraction of a second before turning back to the golden plate in front of her. But by then the mere notion of food was enough to make her stomach clench and the jitters she felt were ones that only Quidditch matches could muster. Had she looked up, she would've caught on to the knowing glances and small smiles shared between her friends. For that moment, though, no one said word of it.

"C'mon," Lizzie began to say as she gathered her scarlet pea coat and scarf. "We should get going too if we wanna get a good seat. We won't see a bloody thing if we're pushed against the back rows."

"True enough," said Fee. "But I swear to Merlin, if one of those 4th year girls becomes obnoxious with those sodding signs again, we'll be seeing fireworks during halftime. And I'm not talking about the nice ones, either."

Chuckles mixed into the air. Alex smirked, thoroughly entertained by the thought, though he knew full well how true to her word Felicia Wentworth would be. No longer wanting to voice the quip aloud, the sandy-haired teen glanced around and caught sight of a pointelle scarf of scarlet and grey.

"I see you're wearing the scarf for the game, Fey," he pointed out, grinning with pride.

Nina glimpsed down and nodded her head as she fixed it in place around her neck. "Of course! Why wouldn't I? It's very pretty."

"I picked it out all by myself too," he said, beaming. "I had to go to one of the shops at Hogsmeade with the twins and order it special."

"Speaking of the twins," Fee mused aloud. "Where are those two? Rather odd that they miss breakfast, isn't it?"

"Oi!"

"Nina!"

Lizzie laughed. "Speak of the devils."

Dark knitted caps hid their locks of the trademark Weasley flare and identical grins of zealous and mischief lined their even more identical features.

"Oi. Where've you two been?" they could hear their Captain ask with a hint of reprimand.

"Went to pick up a present," said one twin.

"Give us a second," said the other.

They stopped in front of Nina and she tried all she could to hold back her curious look as she stared up at them. Compared to her frame, the Weasley pair towered over the seventh year girl by a good number of inches. "What are you boys up to—"

One of the tall twins—who she knew as Fred, judging from the small scar along his jaw—soon revealed a white cardboard container from behind his back. It was relatively good in size and weight, no bigger than a typical parcel, and tied off with only a simple silver bow. Seeing it, though, didn't stop her dark eyes from shifting between them as she opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say.

"18 assorted chocolates—"

"—for a girl's 18th birthday."

"That's…" Slowly, a smile began to seep through as Fred handed her the box. "But… how did you know…"

"Lizzie."

"Fee."

"And Alex," they said his name in unison.

Nina let out a quiet laugh. She took the box carefully and saw the pink-and-green stripes and blocky letters that belonged to none other than Honeydukes. Toffee twigs and honeycomb lumps and almond bits were among the various choices and she could see through clear plastic that covered the top layer—caramel chunks covered in milk chocolate. Or perhaps it was a nugget of some form, she wasn't quite sure at that point. Nevertheless, she hugged them both tightly and lifted herself to her toes.

"Thank you, Fred." She gave him a quick peck to his cheek and gave another to his brother. "Thank you, George. This was very sweet of you both."

"No problem," mumbled Fred.

"Our pleasure," uttered George.

Their faces were a few shades lighter than their flaming red hair and the grins that dawdled across their lips were near a mile wide. They caught up to their teammates in the corridors soon enough, holding their cheeks and sharing a select choice of fumbled words.

"What's got you two so merry? Smiling so goofy and all," Katie pointed out as their Beaters trailed behind them.

"Up to trouble again?" Oliver voiced with the same hint of half-hearted warning.

"We only went to pick up a few things at Hogsmeade—" replied George.

"—hardly anything troublesome 'bout that, Cap'n," Fred continued on innocuously.

"No wonder you took so long," Angie mused as they turned down the corridors. "Doesn't quite explain why you two are grinning like Looney Larry, though. What'd you two do?"

"One of the things we went to pick up was Nina's gift—"

"—that box set of chocolates from Honeydukes."

"Lizzie and Fee said she liked sweets an awful lot—"

"—so we figured it'd be a nice birthday present."

Katie rose her brows at hearing their explanation. "Birthday? It's Nina's birthday today?"

"20th of February," Fred nodded.

"Merlin… I had no idea. I'll be sure to tell her happy birthday after the game then." Katie grinned and nudged the brunette beside her. "We can probably win the match as a birthday present from the Quidditch team, right Ollie?"

At hearing his nickname, Oliver turned his head and saw his teammates' expectant stares, their off-handed grins. He managed to muster up a small smile in reply. "Keep your head on the match for now. Don't lose focus."

A curt chorus of 'aye, Cap'n' rung over the small group and they continued their trek to the Quidditch pitch. But all the while, their Captain battled with a bout of quiet. There was a light crease in his brows and the slight purse of his lips revealed his trait of contemplations. After so long, when they were paces away from the locker rooms, Katie peered up the tall brunette with a quizzical expression. Oliver Wood would hardly be quiet now, of all times.

"Ollie?" When no response came, she patted his arm. "Hey. Oliver."

He blinked. "What?"

"Something wrong, Ollie?"

With a small smirk toying across his handsome features, the pensive countenance he once had soon dissipated. Thoughts still fermented in the back of his mind, materializing into only fractions of a proper consideration. Everything was on a whim, wandering thoughts that branched from ideas that seemed just as barmy as the ones before it. But somehow that made it seem all the more tangible.

"C'mon. We've got a game to win."

Katie watched on as he disappeared beyond the corner that led to the boys' locker rooms. With a subtle shake of her head to rid her thoughts, the pretty blonde turned around to do the same. Oliver spotted his Seeker ahead of him and in a matter of a few quick strides he caught up to the younger teen's pace. He patted his shoulder in greeting and found his branching thoughts turning into something actually done.

"Harry."

"Hey, Oliver."

The Gryffindor Captain smiled faintly. "I have a favor I wanna ask you…"

**— ~ —**

A burst of wind accompanied the sharp whiz that smothered the cheers and shouts. Their gazes turned aloft, watching as a blur of scarlet dove towards the grounds of the pitch for what they hoped was the Golden Snitch.

"Bloody hell, that broom is really something," Lizzie murmured, pushing her caramel locks out of her face.

"Wicked is more like it," Fee said, awestricken.

Behind them, Alex chuckled. His dark blue eyes never once left the game. "Now you know why Wood was so eager for Harry to have it during the match."

Harry pulled back from the dive, narrowly missing a Bludger by inches. He veered back around the stands to align his flight and accelerated back towards the pitch. The Bludger pelted after him as soon as he cleared the wooden stands, hurtling over the heads of spectators, not even a foot above the startled crowd. It took out a large Gryffindor sign from a student's hands and whirled back around towards the pitch as well, instantly being struck by a Ravenclaw Beater.

"OI! Keep those Bludgers on the bloody pitch, Samuels!" Alex roared over the buzz of spectators around him.

Nina held onto Fee's elbow as they straightened up in their place. Heavy thumps pounded beneath her chest and she glimpsed at the fourth year a few rows back. A few of his friends surrounded him, words and worry hung heavy in the cool air. No doubt the poor boy was rattled. But other than a nasty fright he didn't seemed to be harmed.

"I have a feeling the Ravenclaws weren't so eager for Harry to have that Firebolt, Alex," Nina said with an uneasy smile.

"Can't say that I blame them. Tougher than dragon scales, this defense of theirs. They've got their Seeker tracking Harry all around the field and those sodding Bludgers under their thumb. Doesn't mean they should be sending them over the crowds like _pricks_ though!" he shouted for measure, much to the girls' amusement, hoping the Ravenclaws would hear. But for the most part it was an attempt that fell on deaf ears.

Atop his broom, Oliver saw the scene for himself. Exact words were lost in the wind and the flurry of red and blue ahead of him drew more cause for his attention than anything else. But he got the simple essence of it from afar, and the angry gestures Alex made helped somewhat too. The irritation he had was a shared sentiment, he realized; but to his vexation, there was little to do about it right then.

Turning his head back towards the game, he caught sight of Harry as he zoomed closer and closer to the goalposts. The Snitch—it had to be close. His dark eyes scanned the pitch quickly and he prayed to Merlin that Ravenclaw's Seeker wouldn't block Harry like she had been throughout the whole bloody game. Harry disappeared from his field of view once he circled around the goalposts, but movement flickering in the corner of his eye soon got his attention. He quickly whirled to the right, dodging one Bludger in its trek, only to get a nasty knick from the other seconds later.

The sharp jolt slammed against the right side of his ribs, practically knocking the wind out of him. He tumbled into nauseating circles, pain and disorientation blurring his vision, but his grip on his broom remained tight, even when he hung onto it by a mere arm and leg. As he blinked back the distortions in his eyes, he managed to swing his other leg back over the handle, his arms trembling as he pulled himself back up.

"Fucking hell…"

Deep breaths, cool and thick, filled his lungs and he tried rolling his shoulder, locking his elbow, flexing his fingers again and again—anything to get the white hot sting out of his body. Nothing was cracked or broken by his account, which was something he was more than thankful for. But Merlin, did it sting like a bitch.

Nina bit hard on her lower lip, feeling the quiet gasp in the back of her throat thicken into a sudden lump. As Oliver flew back to his place in front of the goals, her grip on Alex's elbow tightened. "Alex, is he alright? Do… Do you think he's alright?"

The sandy-haired teen turned his dark blue gaze onto the girl beside him and tried to hide the grin that curled the corners of his lips. His eyes flicked back to the game and he shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance. "He's had worse before, Nina. He's tougher than you might think. Remember the first match of the season back in fifth year?"

Nina frowned. "Don't you remind me. He had to stay in the hospital wing for three whole days because of that blow to the head. I remember that much."

Alex nodded his head in acknowledgement. He saw Oliver eyeing his Seeker behind him and followed his gaze. Harry dove once more with his arm outstretched and his fingers twitched in the open space ahead of him.

_So close_, he thought as he edged closer to the wooden railing.

Inches, maybe even centimeters, laid between Harry and the Snitch, but he was blocked once more as Cho Chang darted in front of him. He swerved around the Ravenclaw to avoid a collision and his concentration was visibly wrecked as he stopped to look around the pitch yet again. It was the fifth time that game. And the Bludgers bounding to and fro between Keeper and Seeker that day was one too many times to count. Oliver dodged another stray Bludger once Alex thought this and he was actually tempted to laugh.

"Don't worry too much, Nina. Wood might be annoyed to bloody hell at the moment, maybe even a tad bit snarky. But he isn't hurt too bad."

"How do you know Oliver's angry?"

"HARRY, THIS ISN'T A TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" they heard Oliver's voice boom from down the pitch. "KNOCK HER OFF THAT BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

Alex chuckled. "Oh, I know."

Nina blinked in shock at the Keeper's crude words. Her voice held disbelief and, as it began to sink in, a faint tenor of scolding. "Owl…"

Before long, Alex let out a hearty laugh. Nina glanced at the tall teen beside her, and after a while it was near impossible not to join along with him. This was Oliver Wood, after all. Her gaze wandered back towards the game, towards the Seeker that spiraled towards the skies for a feint to barrel towards the other side of the pitch, towards the Keeper that shouted out the names of plays that only the Gryffindors knew.

Something in the pit of her stomach coiled. But she wasn't sure what caused it. She wasn't even sure why. It was the same feeling that swelled up within her the last time; the same stir within her chest and sudden tug at her heart that made it race and quiver all those weeks back. But the reason for it right then was much too different from before. It was the same reasons she couldn't quite admit. Not aloud. Not yet.

"What're you thinking about?"

The ebony-haired teen turned her head and met inquisitive emerald orbs. She only mustered up a faint smile and shook her head.

"Nothing," was all she said.

Her friends exchanged a look, but no words. The expression they had bore little service for it in that moment. But like before, they knew better than to bring it up then. They'd get to it later.

"Roger Davies now has hold of the Quaffle and he is _ripping_ across the pitch! Gryffindor's George Weasley strikes a Bludger and—oh, _so_ close! Davies does an amazing roll past him and is charging towards Gryffindor defense. Spinnet, Johnson—no, Davies had a solid grip on that Quaffle! It's Captain against Captain once again. Davies is closing in and he takes the shot… but Wood makes the save! Gryffindors still takes the lead, eighty to thirty!"

Cheers erupted over the sea of Gryffindors and its supporters. Lizzie and Fee joined in on the Gryffindor House's chants humming over the crowds—'Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor!' Beside her, Alex shouted out words of his own support—'Watch your back there, Wood! Keep your guard up!' Nina smiled as Oliver and Katie exchanged a quick congratulatory slap of their hands. The Chaser circled the goalposts and caught the Quaffle Oliver tossed her, tucking it safely under her arm and speeding past the Ravenclaw Beater that tried to intercept.

Nina cupped her hands around her mouth, ready to shout her enthusiasm. But that was when she saw it—the ripples of black robes amid the wind, the shadows of tall lithe figures emerging from the edge of the Quidditch pitch. Her stomach dropped, but this time for a much more ominous reason.

_Dementors…_

Seeing Nina's paled expression, a curious look settled upon Fee's features. Nina only motioned to the black figures on the edge of the pitch, but as she did so something struck her as strange. There was no fear that sunk into the crevices of her mind, no crippling cold that ensnared her limbs. No anxiety, no dread, no unease—nothing at all. She only felt confused. _Very_ confused.

"Are those Dementors?" Fee voiced, just as confused as Nina was.

Hearing the question, Lizzie and Alex followed their stares. The rivaling Seekers recognized the shadowed figures as well, and in half a heartbeat Harry Potter had gotten his wand out and shouted a spell that they couldn't quite hear. A vast bright light, silvery and pale, glowered over the Dementors and knocked them several feet back on the ground. Harry accelerated forward on his Firebolt with his arm outstretched, wand still in hand. Fractions of a second, a slivered moment of time was all it took. The game was won.

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" Lee Jordan roared into the speakers. "Gryffindor wins the game!"

Shouts and cheers mixed into the wave of celebrations. The seventh years joined in the fray, hugging each other and hollering their House's victory. Nina returned the laughs and embraces senselessly, but eventually the glimpse of raven-black hair amid the sea of scarlet and gold caught her attention.

Pride and respect nestled within her chest as Harry was engulfed by the swarm of overzealous Gryffindors. But in that moment she recalled who he was—she recalled what he just did. There was no doubt in her mind what Harry Potter would be in his future. And she had no doubts how he would do to get there. But somehow that made her all the more afraid, all the more worried.

_He will be a great wizard. But I only hope Merlin will let us see how great…_

Fee patted her arm and motioned for their leave of the stands with the simple tilt of her head. Nina meandered her way through the crowd to follow after her friends, but not before she followed the direction Alex pointed to and laughed quietly. Their Head of House stood over the splay of black robes on the edge of the pitch, absolutely livid. But that alone wasn't what caused the flicker of mirth.

_No wonder…_

Since when did Dementors have legs and feet?

**— ~ —**

Nina had made it a habit to of bake treats for her friends on their birthdays. It was done on a whim the first time, a random fancy that passed her mind after she found where the entrance to the kitchens was during her second year. But since then, the habit formed into a custom of sorts—and one she hadn't broken it yet. Though, she never expected it to be reciprocated one day.

After the game, Lizzie and Fee had it in their heads to do exactly that.

"It's not very often the cookie maker gets gifted with a batch of cookies herself," Lizzie had reasoned with a nod.

"Passing on the tradition, if you will," Fee agreed.

The mere notion was enough to make Nina smile. And despite the hesitation she had at first, she couldn't be all the more eager. She could hardly find it in herself to turn down sweets, of all things.

Both Lizzie and Fee were thunderstruck seeing the large kitchens; evidently so with how they wandered around to peek into pots and jars and open cabinets. It wasn't far different from Nina's reaction when she first happened upon the open portrait hole all those years back.

She meant to find the entrance to Hufflepuff's common room, to wait outside for her partner in Potions at the time, like they had agreed earlier that session. But the wrong turn she made somewhere down in the basement led to her seeing some of the house-elves enter the kitchens through the secret passageway. A happy accident, Nina always called it. Since then she wasn't much of a stranger to Hogwarts's kitchens.

"How'd we do, Nina?"

"These are really good," she replied happily. Judging from the fact that it was the fifth cookie she'd eaten in the last two minutes, they knew she was being honest. "Maybe I should leave making cookies to you two from now on."

A wry chuckle left Fee's lips. "We should be thankful that we got through this batch without burning anything down. Give us a bit of time to recover before talking about another batch to make."

Nina only laughed and engulfed her best friends in a tight hug, giving a quick peck to their cheeks as she parted from them. "I love the cookies you two made. After the Healing tome you two gave me I didn't expect anything else. But thank you. Really, you two."

"It was a last minute gift, now that I think about it," Fee admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Really?"

Lizzie offered a faint smile. "It wasn't so much of a birthday present than something to help cheer you up. Sweets always seem to help somehow."

"Cheer me up…?" Nina murmured in confusion.

"We figured it'd be a nice pick-me-up. Especially after all that happened lately. With Wood and all, I mean."

_Ah… I see_.

The words hummed around in the back of her mind, but couldn't seem to reach her lips. She only nodded her head in acknowledgment and bit into another cookie, though it no longer had the same satisfying smack it had moments before. _Sugar. There's not enough sugar in this one_, was what she tried to reason. But she couldn't seem to voice that thought aloud either.

Moments passed in silence and Lizzie and Fee shared another look between them. Ever since the day Katie confided in her, Lizzie felt utterly conflicted. She didn't have the heart to _not_ tell Nina, and she only chose honesty as her choice of words for both girls. But as the days passed she wondered if it had helped any or just made things more muddled, more confusing, more _worse_.

Lizzie whetted her lips nervously. "I mentioned… that Katie came to me some time ago. To talk to me about Wood and her. I only wanted to be honest when I told her to talk to him and all, but… you're really not mad at me? For talking to Katie the way I did? Honestly, now. Tell me."

Nina paused, staring at her half-eaten treat with a searching glint in her eyes, almost as if it would have the answer she was looking for. Guilt, perhaps? Maybe even relief? If only it were that simple.

"I… don't think that's it. I'm not angry, Liz. You don't have to worry about that."

"Then why does it seem like there's still something wrong?"

"I… I don't know. When it comes to Oliver…" Nina shook her head. "It's not that I'm angry or upset or anything of the sort. Rather it's… uncomfortable. Like… Like wearing a shoe that's a size too snug. It fits you and you can stand it, but after a while it starts to hurt. It… wears you out." She saw a glimmer of surprise in the expressions that stared at her and she smiled back weakly, pushing up her dark frames to the bridge of her nose. "I suppose that was a strange way of describing it. I… can't remember feeling like this before, to be honest."

"Make the shoe fit," Lizzie said as the quiet moment passed. Nina gave her a curious look, but she only shrugged. "You can't force a shoe to fit all the time, of course. But sometimes, if you can stand the pain just long enough, the shoe will be a comfortable on its own. And who knows? Maybe it'll be a pair that'll stay with you for ages."

"Or you can get a new shoe," Fee said as she drizzled the chocolate glaze onto a fresh batch of chocolate thumbprint cookies. She felt the pairs of eyes on her and she smiled slightly. "Naturally, it's the other option, isn't it? If the shoe doesn't fit and it's starting to become too painful to stand then you have to get a new shoe. You're only gonna drive yourself crazy and hurt yourself even more if you keep the shoe you have."

Amusement gleamed brightly in Nina's dark eyes as she glanced between her friends. "I suppose the shoe metaphor makes more sense than I realized."

"'Course. You can never have too many metaphors for this type of thing. Makes it more interesting, I think."

As the curl of Nina's lips faded, Lizzie stared at her friend with a keen gleam. "So… what are you gonna do then?"

"To be honest, I don't really know."

"You're not gonna say anything to him?" Fee asked with a curious tilt of her head.

"I will." Nina mustered up a faint smile and gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Just not now."

"We'll be here regardless of what you do," Fee said with a nod.

"Yeah. Whatever you decide to do with this shoe of yours," Lizzie humored.

The hum of their quiet laughs soon died down as they heard the click of heels against hard stone and the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. All three Gryffindors stiffened in their places, reluctant to face the person they knew was standing behind them.

"Miss Wentworth, Miss Bennet, Miss Fey." A grimace surfaced across their features, only to be dropped as they turned around to see their Head of House staring at them with a stern mien about her face. "I believe you girls are aware that the kitchens are restricted during this time of day?"

Nina glanced at the antique clock hanging above the fireplace and bit her lower lip. It was nearly dinnertime. "Yes, Professor."

"Evie," a gruff voice got out. A house-elf, much older and weathered than the others, stood beside Professor McGonagall with what seemed to be the permanence of a frown upon his face.

Evie, one of the house-elves Nina had known for years, glanced up the elder house-elf before diverting her stare back to the ground. "G… Grump. Evie knows she did wrong. Evie was s'ppose to tell Grump if something happens in the kitchens. B-But the Misses—"

"We wanted to make some things for ourselves," Lizzie explained. "Evie didn't know until we got here. And we didn't exactly leave her with much of a choice, anyway."

"We were gonna clean up when we finished," Nina insisted. It was a rather feeble attempt, though, once she took note of the area around them. In retrospect, perhaps that little bout of flour warfare was a bad idea. "It… took a bit longer than we realized. But we'll clean it up now. The others won't have anything to worry about."

"Evie will get started on supper," the meek house-elf said.

With a small nod towards the girls, she moved away from the group of Gryffindors and made way towards the fireplace. Grump grumbled an unintelligible reply, gave the witches a long look, and continued down the hall after Evie to help her.

The austere expression that appeared across Professor McGonagall's face had faded somewhat. But the faint purse of her lips was still there for them to see.

"I realize how harmless your intentions were," she began to say, "however there are still rules in regard to these circumstances. And you girls have broken them. That is something I cannot ignore, even if the students are from my own House. But, for now… I suppose you girls cleaning up the mess you have made will suffice."

Fee, who wasn't quite a stranger when it came to detentions of a sort, rose her brows and voiced her thoughts aloud. "Wha… That's all, Professor? Just cleaning the kitchens?"

"Without your wands, of course. If you please," Professor McGonagall held out her hand with a vigilant twitch of her fingers.

Nina placed her wand in her Head of House's palm, almost hesitant to ask the question that came to mind. "Do… we have detentions, Professor?"

"Not tonight, Miss Fey." An imperceptible smile played across the older witch's lips seeing the stunned expressions that peered back at her. She motioned to tables and gave them an expectant look. "Grump and the others will need this area cleaned up soon. Come now, get to it quickly."

**— ~ —**

The girls trudged up the Gryffindor Tower with flour still dusted in their hair and clothes and smears of chocolate and egg yolks in their nails and palms. Cleaning without the use of a wand, as Grump and Professor McGonagall ordered, took longer than expected, but it was nevertheless done.

They stepped through the portrait hole and soon marveled at the sight of a relatively clean common room. It was only their Housemates that lingered around the commons, though mostly notably the twins, Alex, and Katie Bell—all of whom had collapsed onto the plush crimson couch and armchairs and looked just as exhausted as they were.

George was the first to see them, but even in his tired state he still managed to laugh. "What in the world happened to you girls? Get in a tiff with Peeves the Poltergeist or something?"

"Careful. That poltergeist can really hold a bloody grudge," Fred muttered as he rubbed his eyes.

"It'd be a more interesting story, I suppose," Fee considered with a grin. "But no, just had a little mishap down at the kitchens. McGonagall had us clean it up ourselves before we left."

"Without our wands," Lizzie sighed as she collapsed onto Alex's lap.

The sandy-haired teen chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I was wondering why you smelled like chocolates just now. Interesting get together you girls have."

"We'll invite you next time," Lizzie said with a laugh.

"What happened up here though?" Fee asked as she sat on the armrest of the chair beside George. "We figured you lot would've been celebrating well into the night with how riled up everyone was earlier."

"We probably would've," Katie said. "But then Professor McGonagall came in not too long ago and had it cut short. She said something along the lines of it being too rambunctious for her tastes, I think."

"She even had Mum's stare when she said that," George mused.

Fred nearly shuddered at the thought. She had it down right to the same crease and narrow of her eyelids and pursed lips. "An awful lot like Mum's stare."

Before George could add on to the queer resemblance of scolding the older witches had, the sound of the portrait door swinging open caught his attention. A familiar shade of brown caught his eye and he threw his arms up in the open space above him.

"Wood!" he greeted lazily. "Where've you been, mate?"

Much like the girls' reaction, Oliver felt his footsteps gradually slow to a halt as he found himself in a rather quiet Gryffindor Tower. He looked over his shoulder for a second, almost thinking he had walked into the wrong room somehow. But he caught a glimpse of dark mahogany orbs and made way towards them, soaking in the question and the numerous pairs of eyes he felt.

"Just came back from the third floor. Ran into McGonagall on my way up here but other than a scolding she didn't say much else." He glanced around the common room once more. "The party ended early, I take it?"

"Yeah. McGonagall's on a bloody roll tonight, apparently," Alex explained rather wearily. "You got a close call from her a second ago. She near had a fit telling us to end the celebrations for the night earlier. Even the girls got a word or two from her, from what I hear."

Oliver looked over the ebony-haired girl beside him and quirked a brow, brushing out a clump of white dust from her hair in amusement. "What happened to you, lass?"

But at this, Nina only smiled sheepishly. "Long story."

"Well, I dunno about you lot, but I need a shower and a change of clothes." Fee got up from her seat and patted her friends' shoulders as she passed. "You girls gonna call it a night?"

"I am," Katie stood up, yawning. "Night boys."

Soon enough, everyone got up from their seats, ready for the day to come to a close. With a fleeting second to gather her thoughts, Nina glimpsed at the tall brunette beside her and noticed the cloth with strange patterns of red and blue and gold resting between them. She roses her brows slightly.

"What's that bundle of cloth there?"

"Erm… Just something I borrowed from Harry," he said as he shifted it out of her vision.

"I see…" She paused and glanced up at him with a flicker of apprehension. "Are your ribs okay?"

"My ribs?"

She motioned to his side. "From the Bludger. It looked like a really hard hit during the match earlier…"

"Ah, that." He laid a subconscious hand to the right side of his body at the recollection. The bruise there was still tender to the touch and the one on his shoulder wasn't any better either, but despite that he rolled his shoulder with a little grin. "It's not so bad. Nothing a little Arnica Salve can't fix."

"Good. Gives me some peace of mind then," she said with a light bow of her lips. She gathered her jacket and scarf in hand and gave a gentle squeeze to his arm as she passed him. "Tell me if you need to get it treated, okay?"

"Nina." The ebony-haired teen slowed to a halt and glanced up at the Gryffindor with a subtle crease of her brows. "Here."

She stared the small black box that laid on his palm. The grip on her scarf tightened gradually and her dark eyes drifted aloft to catch his gaze, searching, questioning. But he revealed little beyond an imperceptible smile.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

"But…"

"I know. But it's still yours."

She was at a loss for words. Days ago, earlier that week, she told him once that her birthday was coming up. But with the chaos of Quidditch and the flurry of exams and essays and long-winded assignments that week, she wouldn't blame him one bit if he had forgotten. And truth be told, a small part of her had hoped that he did. But as she glimpsed at his earnest expression, she came to see that that was no longer the case.

With tentative fingers, she reached for the smooth leather-bounded box. It opened with a quiet click and she saw the small silver owl pendant, intricately carved and designed, down to the eyes, the feathers, the wings. She touched it gingerly, enthralled, and realized that the head and wings could move, following her fingers as it swayed from left to right. A quiet laugh of disbelief escaped her lips and she glanced up from the necklace.

"Oliver… where did you…"

"Hogsmeade. Spent the better half of the day trying to figure out what to get but…" There was an expectant glint his eyes and his voice held an air of hopefulness. "…do you like it?"

A sudden twinge within her chest caused an ache she had never felt before. But somehow it made her want to smile, to laugh, despite the pang she felt. _Why?_ The question practically rung in her ears yet it was never once close to her tongue. _Why did you get this?_

"Nina?"

She scrounged up a small smile and finally found the courage to meet that dark, chocolate-colored stare. "I love it."

"You do?" Relief mixed into the sigh that left his lips, practically melding into the now prominent smile upon his features. Hearing it, though, only made a tiny laugh bubble in the back of Nina's throat.

She wrapped her arms around his neck in a warm hug, catching the tall brunette off-guard. His muscles tensed slightly for a second and the dull throb in the right side of his body rung through him once more. But in that moment he couldn't quite care less. He only smiled faintly to himself and returned the embrace as much as his bruised ribs would allow.

"Happy birthday."

Her heart made another aching beat and the subtle crease of her brows had reappeared. But never once did the embrace wane.

_You can't force a shoe to fit all the time, of course. But sometimes, if you can stand the pain just long enough, the shoe will be a comfortable on its own…_

She didn't know what made her think of Lizzie's words right then. Every syllable was a clatter that wouldn't leave her head and the churn in the pit of her stomach seemed to have no end. But she found a sense of comfort in those words and what they meant.

She felt so torn, so flustered and conflicted at the same time. And despite it all, she knew she couldn't change that. But in that moment she was happy. Truly, she was.

"Thank you, Owl," she murmured into his shoulder. "Really."

In a single fluid beat, Nina pulled away from him and pressed her lips against his cheek lightly, a movement that almost seemed too natural to ignore. Oliver blinked as she parted from him, but once he caught sight of her faint smile everything began to sink in.

"Good night," she said quietly.

"Night," he replied, almost dazed.

With a small wave goodbye and a smile shared between them, Nina turned and headed up the dorm staircase. Oliver rose a hand to the spot her lips touched and soon felt something warm and powdery on his cheek. As he lowered his hand, he realized it was flour. He chuckled quietly to himself, clapped the white dust from his hands, and took one last look at the now vacant staircase with a small smile playing across his lips.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	18. Chapter 18

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 – More Than Friends<strong>

* * *

><p>A finely plucked ebony quill rested easily between his fingers but his hand remained unmoving, permanently transfixed in its place as if he had been touched with some type of petrification curse.<p>

Only a few generic words were written on the blank length of parchment, words that had been written in small increments over a course in time. After nearly half an hour the only thing to show for his efforts was his name, a bland title, and meaningless scribbles that somehow managed to make sense. But it was no use, really. His mind came to a complete blank, miles away from the workings of Untransfigurations.

A weary sigh left his lips and, for what must have been the umpteenth time that afternoon, he shifted his gaze a ways down the table. And, like the other times before, the empty crevices of his mind were suddenly engulfed with pensive thoughts and musings.

Strands of her long dark hair were pinned out of her face, framing her rosy cheeks and soft features rather nicely that day. Behind the dark framed spectacles, her dark eyes held a gleam of earnest as she skimmed through the lines of a textbook, silently mouthing the words to herself before relaying it to the second year that she was tutoring.

He remembered that she had taken up tutoring recently, at the behest of Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, though he still had his reservations on the matter. It was rather obvious that she was tempted to say no when she was asked—he was with her when Proessor Sprout came to her earlier that week, after all—but, as it was, Nina Fey could never say no.

Excitement drew across her features as the second year changed his owl a distinct shade of red, no doubt performing a Color Change Charm correctly. Nina reversed the charm flawlessly, ruffling the boy's hair with a friendly mien and sharing a few words of encouragement somehow. Oliver looked on, feeling the subtle twitch of his lips as their younger Housemate grinned a cheeky sort of grin and was flushed to light hue of pink. Maybe he should have asked her for some help with Charms earlier. Merlin knows he needed it with where his marks had been recently.

"You do realize you've been staring, right?"

Oliver turned his attention to the sandy-haired teen sitting in front of him, catching sight of the faint grin creeping about the corners of his lips. Alex hadn't even glanced up from his DADA essay as he said part, but Oliver simply shrugged off the implications.

"Observant of you," the Gryffindor Captain acknowledged.

At this, Alex stopped mid-sentence in his essay and rose his gaze from the parchment in front of him. After a quick moment of scrutiny on his part he quirked a brow before continuing where he left off in his assignment. "What? That's it? No denial? It isn't that much fun if you give up that easily, y'know."

"Wouldn't denying it be a lie? I'm not that much of liar."

"Sad to say, you're not that much of a romantic either," Alex glanced down the table for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of the ebony-haired teen as she smiled and chatted with their younger Housemate. "Subtly isn't exactly your best quality, mate."

But Oliver smirked faintly and closed his Transfigurations textbook. It was rather useless to try and finish his work now.

"Lack of subtly is a bit of a strong suit of mine, I think. Some girls find straightforwardness rather charming, wouldn't you say?"

"What, and you suspect that straightforwardness scores points in charming a certain Nina Fey?"

"I s'ppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Was that some weird and opaque way of you saying that you fancy her?" Alex joked lamely.

After a moment of silence, where only the sound of papers being shuffled around was heard, Alex rose his brows once more and stared at his friend in dumbfounded surprise.

"Oi, Wood… You're serious?"

"And if I am?"

Those unforeseen words struck Alex with a heavy vigor. He was well aware of his friend's sudden plight of pensiveness as of late, though in some sense it was a bit expected. After the whole controversy about Harry's Firebolt a few weeks back (something Oliver was by no means thrilled about) and the sudden workload their professors had unleashed upon them, it was rather difficult to _not_ see how Oliver Wood had his mind quite preoccupied.

But Alex never imagined that Nina Fey was among the things that occupied his friend's thoughts. Of course, he had strong instincts that he had the girl on his mind—but a guess was good as a shot in the dark. As it turned out, though, he was proven right by one simple question. And as much as he wanted to give his honest reply, he was, frankly put, a bit too stunned to do so.

"Erm… I think… it'd be interesting," Alex got out. "You and Nina… She's not exactly the type you usually… I mean… Bloody hell, really?"

His friend's verbal jumble only made Oliver quirk a brow. It wasn't quite often that he's seen or heard Alex stumble through a sentence. Honestly, he was usually the type to say something first—and _always_ the type to have the last word. Seeing him incredibly sheepish now, of all times, was a bit of a shocker.

"You're being dodgy."

"Not dodgy. Curious," Alex recovered from his previous flub effortlessly, his dark blue eyes staring at his friend with newfound earnest. "I'm only making sure you know what the bloody hell you're doing before you actually follow through with it. Upholding the duties of a good mate and all, y'know? Besides, this entire time I figured you were still in limbo with everything that had to with Nina. You kept saying you had to sort things out with Katie and all."

"It's been sorted for a while now, really," the brunette admitted, albeit sheepishly. "Katie had a hand in helping me sort it all out, in a way."

"So… wait," Alex held back a grin as he began to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. "You were serious then? About that whole fancying Nina bit? And now you and she are…?"

The small smirk toying about the corners of Oliver's lips faded somewhat. But he only turned his head to look around the Hall to hide this little fact.

"We'll figure that out eventually, I s'ppose." He rubbed the back of his neck subconsciously. "Probably not the best in timing around now."

"Well… I guess that might be true," Alex acknowledged. He paused for a moment before continuing to say, "But… it kinda depends, doesn't it? On circumstances and all. If you say the right thing at the right moment, then you never know."

The Gryffindor Captain furrowed his brows, completely lost to his friend's point. "What?"

But Alex could do nothing but scratch the back of his head. "Err… never mind," he got out rather lamely.

It didn't sound too invasive when it flickered through his mind the first time; it was only when he heard it with his own ears did he regret it. And Merlin help him if Oliver found out what he was really alluding to.

In truth, Alex had his reservations and suspicions on the whole matter since the very start. But as much as he was tempted to tell his best mate the truth, Nina had grown to be a very close friend of his as well. He couldn't possibly betray that trust now, of all times; nor would he really want to. And truth be told, his best interests weren't solely on his friends, but on himself as well. Nina would _kill_ him if Oliver found out somehow. Or perhaps she wouldn't—he wasn't quite sure with the type of personality and magical skill Nina Fey had, though he was by no means eager to find out any time soon.

All Oliver could to do was stare oddly at the sandy-haired teen, who looked rather flustered and suspicious indeed. Before either could even think to get another word in, the sound of the bell echoed throughout the Great Hall, beckoning forth the new block of classes to begin. With a quick glimpse of his wristwatch, the Gryffindor Captain shook his head and gathered his knapsack.

"Have it your way. I need to get going."

"See you in Ancient Runes later then," Alex said with a nod in parting.

The Gryffindor Captain soon left the Great Hall altogether, joining the steady flow of students continuing on with their day. And against his better judgment, he soon found himself delving deep into thought once again.

**— ~ —**

Nina wandered down the aisles until she reached the Transfiguration section of the library. It was another essay for Professor McGonagall's class that brought her there that time around, but nonetheless she found it rather fortunate to see that the topic of choice was fairly to-the-point compared to her other classes. Unfortunately, her textbook was lacking in context to the inner workings of Untransfigurations of human forms.

Slowly, her eyes skimmed the bookshelves in search of a book she had used a number of times in the past. As her dark eyes drifted overhead, it was difficult for her to hold back her frown. _Transfigurations: A Magical Art_ stared at her from the very top shelf, a good few feet above her.

"'Course…" she muttered to herself wryly.

With a slight huff, she stood at the tip of her toes—as far as her black oxfords would allow—and stretched her arm overhead. Her fingertips brushed against the thick book's leather-bounded spine and she stretched up once more. Truth be told, Nina was by no means _petite_ (she was _exactly_ 5 feet and 3½ inches tall—a number she was rather proud of at times). But when compared to the tall bookshelves of the library she was, in fact, quite short.

"C'mon…"

But she soon felt her fingers push the book back further in its place and, ultimately, more away from her. She was almost close to taking her wand out of her robe pocket when she felt someone stand behind her and reach up, taking the book by the spine with relative ease.

"Never thought I'd be helping you with Transfigurations this way, lass," he grinned as he peeked at the cover of the book.

A small smile was on her face as she glanced up at him.

"Well it's definitely helpful at the moment." He handed her the book, which she took with a nod in thanks. "What brings you to the library? Not that I don't appreciate you helping me with my height deficiency problem just now, but… I don't usually see you in the libraries that much nowadays."

"I figured I could use the quiet time," he said with a small shrug. "And I remembered you have your break period now also."

She tilted her head to the side a bit. "How'd you know I'd be here in this library?"

"Where would Nina Fey be on a Wednesday afternoon after lunch with midterms coming up soon?" he smirked slightly at the pout on her face. "You're not that hard to figure out. You always go to the first floor Study Halls anyways."

"I never realized I was that predictable," she said with a rather sheepish ruffle of her bangs.

Oliver glanced her way and hid his grin to himself. "Just a little bit."

They headed back to the table where she had her belongings and settled into the chairs. For a while they stayed in that silence, mulling quietly to themselves over nothing in particular. Oliver glanced around after growing tired of reading about Transfigurations—or rather the fruitless attempts of reading about Transfigurations. But a glint of silver from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he found himself doing a double-take. There was no denying that familiar silver pendant, or the length of silver chain that it hung off of. She had been wearing it often, he noticed.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Nina lifted her gaze and met those dark, chocolate-colored orbs. Heat prickled the back her neck and the rosy tint in her cheeks darkened instantly.

"What?"

Oliver hid a smile to himself and shook his head. "Nothing." A thought came to mind and he quickly continued on, "Ah, right. I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Hm?"

"Me and Alex were gonna head to Hogsmeade this weekend. We were gonna check some things out at Sprintwitches and a few other shops. Just to take a breather from the Castle and all. Did you wanna come with us?"

Enthusiasm spurred within her chest at the mere thought of it all and words of agreement tottered at the tip of her tongue. But in the last second, she found herself biting it back instead. The smile on her face dimmed slightly.

"I'd love to but I can't this weekend. I sorta… have a detention with Professor McGonagall, so…"

"_You_ got a detention with McGonagall?" Oliver wasn't so much disappointed as he was surprised. Honestly, he almost thought he heard her wrong. "Why? Or… _how_?"

"Well… there was that little mishap in the kitchens earlier last week… It's not really a detention, but…" She shook her head. "Either way, I guess she remembered and wanted to talk to me about it. And she wanted to talk about my marks in her class and a few others too, so she told me to come to her class this weekend."

"What, you mean your marks in class are dropping lately?"

"Somewhat," she admitted with a weak smile.

"Well, if it's McGonagall then I s'ppose you can't exactly skip out on something like that now," he muttered. A sigh left his lips as he leant back into his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Bloody hell… You, Fee, Lizzie… all of you have detentions this weekend? Isn't it usually the other way around?"

Nina let out a quiet laugh. "Well you and Alex have gotten better about bending rules rather than outright breaking them since the start of the year."

"Yeah, well, I never figured you girls would try to follow in those footsteps anytime soon. One hell of a tradition we're passing down if all three of you managed to get detentions somehow."

"It's not that kinda detention though," she reasoned, sulking vaguely. "Besides… we didn't mean to stay in the kitchens for too long. The professors and prefects usually patrol that area before dinnertime. I just… forgot that we needed to leave before then."

"And you were caught being at the wrong place at the wrong time," he concluded with a smirk. "Lesson learned for you girls, I s'ppose."

"Not to sneak into the forbidden areas of the school, you mean?"

"Not to get caught." He chuckled quietly at the playful glare she gave him. "Only kidding." As he watched her go back to her essay, a more earnest countenance crossed his features. "Don't make it a habit though, lass. Getting a scolding and a detention from McGonagall is how it usually starts. Next thing you know, you'll be ending up like the twins."

"It's the first detention I've had all year, Owl. It's a big leap to reach the twins' level," she said with a laugh. Her smile hadn't faded, even with the apologetic gleam in her dark eyes. "But I'm sorry I can't go with you. I'll make it up to you next time. Promise."

"A round of butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks will probably do."

Nina laughed, quickly ducked her head seeing Madam Pince's scrutinizing glare, and gave the Gryffindor Captain in front of her a reassuring smile.

"Deal," she whispered.

**— ~ —**

The sound of a quiet trill pulled Nina from her train of thought. She smiled at her great-horned owl and scratched the feathers atop his head. He always loved that.

"Give me a second, Roo."

Rufus flexed his wings for a moment and she went on to tuck the letter she was holding into an envelope. With a few swift strokes, she wrote 'Dearest Friend' across the front and sealed it with blotch of red wax and the usual Hogwarts seal. She fanned it with her hand before settling on using a quick drying charm.

"Can you give this to Dearest Friend for me?"

She only needed to hear her owl's usual motivated squawk to know her answer. Rufus took the letter into his beak and descended from the stone windowsill beside her bed, flapping his wings loudly and disappearing beyond the small tower in front of him in his trek. Nina glanced down at her wristwatch and soon realized that she needed to start on a trek of her own.

With her satchel and Transfiguration textbook in hand—which she had no doubts about needing later that day—she latched her window close and left her dorm. Some of her younger Housemates lounged on the plush red armchairs and couches of the common rooms as she passed, but no one she could immediately recall. Everyone was busy with their own share of events that weekend, apparently.

Both Lizzie and Fee had a mishap in Potions that Professor Snape was none too pleased about—a failed attempt of a Veritaserum and a rather large hole in a desk were among the justifiable reasons for his irritation that day—and as a result, they ended up having a day of detention with the Potions master. Oliver and Alex left for Hogsmeade earlier that morning, like they said, and joining them were the twins and Katie Bell, which was most definitely seemed like an interesting day ahead of them.

A part of Nina wished that she could've gone with them, to spend the day out of Hogwarts Castle like the others to get a breather, like Oliver said. But once she walked down the corridors to the Transfiguration Courtyard, she came to see that the thought would have to come to life some other time.

Her pace slowed to precarious footsteps as she stepped into the familiar classroom. She felt it rather strange to be in the room with so little people, let alone by herself. The dull murmur of conversations and voices from the courtyard across the way hung over the lonesome room, and even from inside she could hear the quiet rustle of leaves from the nearby trees outside the large open windows.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Nina walked down the aisle of empty tables, towards the front of the room. Papers, notebooks, textbooks were neatly stacked atop the large mahogany desk and pieces of parchment laid beside a lone teacup and saucer. Walking past the desk, the ebony-haired teen made way towards the oaken door ahead of her that looked open a crack.

She knocked on it politely. "Professor?"

But other than a small back room with large bookcases and textbooks—a study of sorts, from what she could tell—there was nothing there of interest.

"I could've sworn she said today," she muttered to herself.

Deciding to wait a moment longer, she walked towards the first row of desks and sat on the first seat that she saw. It was only when she faced the front of the room did she realized that it was Oliver's seat that she had taken. A quiet sigh left her lips and she tapped the desk lightly.

_I probably could've gone with him if I had known Professor wasn't gonna be here…_

She placed her things on top of the desk and waited. Subconsciously, her gaze went towards the open window to her left. Hogsmeade was in that direction, if she wasn't mistaken.

_Maybe it isn't too late to go…_

A glance of her watch later, Nina bit her lower lip. It wasn't as if she meant to skip out on her detention—especially if it was her Head of House that requisitioned the punishment. But one could hardly call it that if a professor wasn't there to oversee things. The logic began to resonate with the teen as she waited there in her seat. She glanced at her wristwatch once more—it was nearing the ten minute mark.

Faded squawks caught her attention, pushing aside the debate to stay or go. Wings flapped loudly as an owl descended its flight, easing onto the pile of textbooks atop the large mahogany desk. Curiosity struck Nina instantly seeing the familiar black and white markings on the owl's wings, and before long she let out a quiet laugh and got up from the desk.

"Rufus… you were supposed to take this to Dearest Friend."

She reached over to scratch the soft feathers atop his head and he nipped at the loose fringe of her grey scarf. Sighing, she took the envelope from the desk and looked it over. The fluid strokes of her handwriting were unmistakable.

"Sorry, Roo. You probably went hunting before I sent you out, huh?" she said with another affectionate stroke to his feathers. "It's alright. I can send it later."

Rufus made another quiet trill, nipping at her scarf with soft tugs. As she turned to stuff the envelop back into her satchel, she caught sight of the parchment that laid underneath a ornate black fountain pen. Specific words, even from upside down, caught her eye and she paused. Doubt crossed her mind, and a part of her scolded herself for even thinking of looking through a professor's belongings. But something didn't settle right with her in that moment.

She walked behind the desk, carefully nudging aside the fountain pen and the notebook, leafing past the empty sheets of parchment. Words scrawled in thick, elegant strokes ran across the last sheet and she skimmed over them quickly. She skimmed over them again and again and again, taking in the sentences, the way they were written. But none of it made any sense to her mind.

_How_…

She took the letter into her hand and furrowed her brows, feeling the pressure within her chest grow tighter and tighter.

_Dearest Nina Fey,_

_You must forgive me for this late response. Business has kept me from quill and parchment and I have just now found the proper time and thought to write to you. I have heard from dear friends of mine that you've applied to the Healer's apprenticeship and I can't be any prouder. Though, I have also learnt that your marks in some classes have declined lately, Transfigurations especially. I've heard that you even managed to totter on some rule bending recently. I will be honest, you've worried me slightly. If there's anything bothering you as of late, I do hope you will tell me. I only want to help…_

Words began to blur together into strange cursive lines and everything in her mind came to a blank. Her dark eyes darted to and fro across the page, searching for something to help her understand. But none of it made any sense. None of it seemed true.

"It's not possible…"

_It can't be possible…_

"Miss Fey?"

The owner of that voice was impossible to deny, yet somehow that made it all the more surreal to Nina. Confliction riled up within her chest, her body and limbs visibly stiff. But somehow she convinced her body to listen, to turn her head and meet that unquestionable emerald green stare.

"Professor McGonagall…"

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	19. Chapter 19

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 – Secrets We Keep<strong>

* * *

><p>The door closed behind her with a tired groan of its hinges and a metallic clatter of its latch. Nina soaked in the quiet room and gripped the strap of her satchel with another tight squeeze.<p>

Old paintings and portraits hung on the opposite wall of ceiling-tall bookshelves and reading nooks, and the large Palladian window above an aged oak desk drew forth an ample amount of sunlight into the large office. Dark scarlet-and-gold banners, strange knick-knacks here and bric-a-bracs there, crimson armchairs in front of an old grey stone fireplace—it was as homely as she remembered, if only vaguely.

Knots began to ball up in the pit of her stomach as questions and possible far-off answers bounded to the forefront of her mind. The grip on her satchel tightened once more, her knuckles nearly ghost white, and she willed her legs to move forward. Professor McGonagall—or Dearest Friend, she didn't know what to call her anymore by that point—told her to wait in her office until her return, and that time there was no question over whether she would stay or not.

Slowly, she made way towards the plush armchairs in front of the fireplace. Picture frames lined the mantle among the miscellaneous knick-knacks and she glimpsed them over. One showed a young professor, pretty and fresh-faced, with a group of students clad in their school robes. They were of Gryffindor House, judging from the lion twined with scarlet; and they were no older than a typical first year, judging from their youthful appearance. Professor McGonagall's first year teaching, if Nina were to make a guess.

Another photo beside it, magical as well and moving with a subtle flow, showed group of four older boys standing in the Transfiguration Courtyard in their casual clothes. Pleasant smiles dawdled about their features, morphing into cheeky grins and silly faces as they slung their arms around each other's shoulders—even capturing a headlock of sorts that one boy had his friend in. Nina couldn't help but smile faintly at seeing that, but in a way it surprised her. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to type to find such a magical photo sentimental.

The next photo caught her attention more than the others. It was magical, just like the ones before it, but the number of people in it were one too many to count or keep track of. Silly faces and goofy smiles were captured in the photo as the large group of students all tried to fit in the frame. Emblems on their robes were as varied as Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans—a Ravenclaw among a duo of Gryffindors, a pair of Hufflepuffs with their arms slung over the shoulders of a Ravenclaw; she even thought she saw the serpent on the robes of one boy who stood grinning in between a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor.

Nina was enthralled.

At the sound of the door creaking open, Nina turned and watched as Professor McGonagall walked into the room, her expression was more controlled, her emotions now quelled. Color had drained from her face the moment she caught sight of Nina holding that letter in her hand, but the incident felt like ages ago and her once flustered thoughts had become all the more clearer.

"Explanations are in order, yes?" As she walked towards her desk to place down her pile of notebooks in hand, she coaxed, "Come. Sit down, Nina. I believe this matter won't be resolved any time soon. We may as well get comfortable in the meantime."

Nina placed the picture frame back onto the mantle and eased herself on the first armchair she saw. It was only when she placed her satchel beside her that she realized Professor McGonagall had called her Nina. Not Miss Fey.

"How do I know you're the one who's written those letters?"

"Do you wish for me to prove it?" the professor asked, vaguely amused.

"If you're able to," Nina said quietly. "No one but Madame Pomfrey knows that I write letters to Dearest Friend. And that's only because she knows who Dearest Friend really is. If you… You've read my letters. So you can tell me something that only Dearest Friend would know."

"Very well then."

Even from seeing only her backside, Nina could make out the terse silhouettes of Professor McGonagall's shoulders, the rigid twitch of her fingers as she clasped her hands in front of her. She always did that while in thought, but it didn't take long.

"Allen Vale." Nina's expression stilled. "I know that you've been at odds with him more than you let on. He's been your step-father for years, yet he's a stranger to you, just as he is to me. And I know that you trust him no more than I do. Had I known about your mother's marriage to him sooner, I would've said something on this matter myself."

Nina pursed her lips, soaking in those words as she stared at the elder witch. "So from the very beginning…" Her voice came out as a rasp. She cleared it quietly and went on, "From the very beginning, it was you."

"It was."

"Why?"

_Why you? Why the letters? Why at all?_

"Why?" Her dark green eyes turned back to skim over the magnitude of volumes and magical texts she had acquired over the years. "That is a question with roots as deep as our Whomping Willow—and nearly just as thick and maybe even cruel. I can answer that question, yes, but it is long. Tedious, perhaps, but I'm willing to spare no details. After so long, I believe that's something you deserve. But even then, will you still listen?"

"I've never stopped before, Professor."

"True," came the Transfigurations Professor's soft reply.

Finding what she was looking for, she grabbed it from the very bottom shelf, hidden in the corner beside the old textbook she had used during her own days at Hogwarts. She gripped it in her hands for a moment, running her fingers down the familiar grooves and engravings in the old leather, hesitating. But despite this, her resolve still remained whole and intact.

"We will start with this."

Nina watched, puzzled, as her Head of House handed her a tome. Across the cover, carved in white letters and stitched in gold, was a simple phrase. _Familia Primoris._

"Family foremost."

"My father's words. He was a Muggle—a minister, in fact. Never in his life did he think magic or wizards or witches would come to life beyond those fairytales and fables he heard of, I'd imagine. But it did, weeks after I was born. My mother, a witch herself, had expected him to shun her once he found out. But he never did. He loved her, and he loved me—just as he loved Malcolm and Robert, my brothers after me. Family foremost. That was what he said when Malcolm plucked up the nerve to ask him if he was ever afraid of us, or of magic itself, really."

Nina flipped past the leather cover of the tome. Parchment, smooth and crisp, brushed against her fingertips, but as she glanced down at the pages, she blinked in surprise at what she saw. Pictures—magical and Muggle.

"A photo album," she realized.

"My brother Malcolm's," the Professor said. She turned a page and smiled, pointing to a smiling young boy in grey trousers and a dark-plaid shirt. "This was him, at King's Cross Station before he started his first year. I was starting my second year myself. Robert, he was only five years-old at the time. Still too young to go to Hogwarts with us, as our mother told him. Poor thing was on the verge of tears about us leaving him behind, until our father said they would get some ice cream on their way home. Robert always did perk up when it came to sweets when he was a boy. Still does, now that I think of it."

The quiet laugh that passed Nina lips. In her mind's eye, the teen could see the images of the young boy, chubby-cheeked with dark hair and bright eyes, happily eating an ice cream cone as he held his mother's hand and strolled down the streets of Diagon Alley.

"Malcolm, he was sorted into Gryffindor?" Nina asked aloud, noting the lion crest upon his robes in the pictures she saw.

"That he was. More proud and lively than any other Gryffindor I knew at the time."

The elder witch turned the pages, commenting on which year this picture or that one had been taken. It was only a few, yet time had progressed with each page that was turned, and Nina became more and more fascinated. Boyish features, from those babyish cheeks to his somewhat gangly frame, had ebbed away over the years.

_He's handsome,_ she could help but think.

His shoulders became more broad and his cheeks more defined; his frame became more sturdy with what she assumed was muscle and fat more befitting of a healthy young man. Dark brown hair, almost black, was cut neat and short and his eyes held a dark emerald hue that matched his older sister's. Yet there was a strange gleam there, a sort of liveliness and spark that belonged to him and him alone. She had seen it before.

Suddenly, it came to her. She lifted her eyes, focusing solely on the silver frame that rested on the mantle. Professor McGonagall followed her gaze and felt the swift twinge beneath her chest, the same tug she felt every time she caught herself staring at the photo. Standing up from her seat, she walked toward the fireplace and reached for the very silver frame Nina had gazed upon. She handed it to the younger witch and smiled an imperceptible smile.

"This was Malcolm during his last year. Gryffindors, all of them, and the closest of friends. Justin Mackley, Stuart Littleroot, Vincent Rumbledon. They had just graduated in that picture. It's one of the only ones I have where all of them are together."

Seeing their cheeky grins and silly expressions always seemed to make Nina smile. And the curl of her lips only seemed to deepen seeing that Malcolm was the one in the headlock.

"They kinda remind me of Oliver and Alex and the twins," Nina said as she handed back the frame. "You can tell that they're all good friends."

The thought only made Minerva chuckle. "Yes, well, they have the same sense of humor and tendency for mischief, that I have no doubts. Fred and George Weasley especially. If they were any more daring then they are, then I'd wonder if they were related to Justin and Stuart themselves. But… Malcolm and his friends, they were adventurous—more than any other group of people I knew. One day, they had it in their heads to travel once they graduated and just like that, they went.

"My mother and father were furious at the time. Malcolm had left with little warning beyond a note on his bed and a promise to be back within the next few months. But after a while, my father thought it was good for him to go off and see the world. To sow his wild oats, as he said. My mother was still sore on the subject, but I always suspected that it was out of envy. Truth be told, we were both quite envious of Malcolm…"

Again, the professor turned the page and pointed to one picture and then another and then a few more. They were Muggle ones, however; black-and-white pictures with a faded hue that almost made it seem brown. But it was much more candid than the one she had already seen.

"This one here, they were traveling in Greece. And this one was in Egypt, in the Valley of the Kings. Ah, and this one was when they were in Germany. I remember Malcolm once told me how they went from seeing a Quidditch match in Germany in the morning, to eating lunch in Muggle Italy in the afternoon, to finishing the night at a festival in Romania. Muggle means of transportation was exciting the first few days, but quite inconvenient with where they all wanted to go. Rather an impatient bunch, those boys."

Nina only smiled and continued to listen on and watch. Fondness and admiration was deeply seeded in Professor McGonagall's voice, practically shimmering in her dark eyes as she saw the pictures and recalled the tales herself. In all her years, Nina had never seen such a side of her Head of House, and as lost as she felt, she had no desire to disrupt that right then.

"Here, they went to India. And then this one was when they were in Mongolia. They went to the Great Wall of China here, and then Jeju Island in Korea here. Here, they went to Shanghai and then Tokyo. And this one…"

Professor McGonagall paused. She could feel the edges of the picture against her fingertips, the slightly torn corner and its frayed ends. The page was in her grasp, ready to be turned, but still her hesitation lingered. She knew what the next picture would show—she had seen it one too many times in the past, reflecting and wondering, even dreading, about the very moment that dawned upon her.

What would Nina say once she knew the truth? How would she react? Disbelief? Joy? Anger? Any of those sentiments were reasonable, something that Minerva could withstand and comprehend. Tears and resentment and verbal lashings from a variety of words—she could handle that, she knew. But not denial. Not rejection.

_Yet this is the truth…_

And indeed, it was. But it didn't mean that Nina Fey would like it. It didn't mean she would wholly accept it either.

Minerva turned the page anyway.

"This… is the young woman Malcolm met while he was there. A very sweet girl. Quick and able with a wand, but still one of the most kindhearted people I could ever hope to meet. My brother… he fell for her deeply. More than any of us expected. But he loved her. Truly, he did."

"She's…"

"Hana Fey." McGonagall smiled with a grace that she hoped was comforting. "You're a spitting image of her."

Disbelief trickled through Nina's veins, leaving her limbs cool, almost numb.

_You're a spitting image of her_.

And she was. Right down the to the shape of their pink thin lips and round dark eyes, and to the way they stood—with their hands placed in front of them and their fingers interlocked. Yet they were still different somehow. Hana's milky features were leaner, almost aristocratic, while Nina's were slightly more rounded, plain and humble. And the smiles they had were different as well. The simple curl of Hana's lips showed a row of straight white teeth, something that Nina always seemed to hide into the sleeve of her jacket or back of her hand, a nasty habit as it always been.

_Fey_. _Her name is Hana Fey._

Nina couldn't think of anything else. The similarities were almost too striking to ignore. Eager to abolish the stillness that encased them, Minerva pointed to the photo on the next page and went on.

"There are only a few photos of Hana when she was a young girl. She didn't have many with her when Malcolm started this photo album, but it didn't make it any less meaningful."

Page upon page, despite only being so few to begin with, was another progression of time and age. But for Nina, it almost seemed as if she were looking into a mirror.

"This was Hana at her graduation. She graduated at the top of her class in almost all her subjects, though her best hand was at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Much like Malcolm, in fact. This one was when she first came to Scotland. Ah, and this one was taken on the day of their wedding. But this one…" Minerva sighed softly and rested the album back onto the teen's lap. "This one was taken the day their child was born, when they first came home from St. Mungo's. December 28th, 1956."

Apprehension encroached upon the confines of Nina's conscience. The word slipped past her lips in a murmur, almost afraid that if it was said too loud, it would turn out to be a lie.

"Mumma…"

But for the first time in a long while, Minerva smiled a wholehearted smile. "Your mother. Mildred Fey McGonagall, born in the wee hours of December 28th, 1956."

Nina's dark eyes bore into the emerald spheres that reflected back so earnestly, yet she found no traces of deceit, no reason for doubt.

"Malcolm and Hana…" She stumbled, swallowed hard, and tried again. "That makes you…"

The witch gave a little smile and humored, "Your great-aunt, I believe."

"Family." It was the only word that came to Nina's mind. "My… family."

Hearing it, though, sent a tremble through Minerva's heart. Pride struck her with a hefty hand, swelling up into joy and a sense of gratitude. But along with it, she felt guilt. If there was anything at all that she had regretted from the secrets that she kept, it was the fact that she had to reveal it all one day too late. Up until that moment, it was always one day too late.

"I… I don't understand though." Nina's smile faded into her confusion. "Mumma said that she was raised by her aunt when she was younger. But that was you, wasn't it? You're the one that raised Mumma, weren't you? But why… why wouldn't she say anything…"

Minerva frowned at the thought. "Truth be told, that is an answer I'm not sure of myself. The day I sent your acceptance letter into Hogwarts was the first time I heard from your mother in years since she left London. She was against you attending this school at all, but I did all that I could to reassure her that you would safe in this castle. Mildred relented eventually, though it was on the condition that I reveal nothing about the truth of our family. Nothing on the matter of who I was, or who your grandparents were."

"I… suppose being related to a teacher at Hogwarts could be suspicious somehow, but… Mumma has never said anything about my grandparents, not even when I was younger. Why would she…"

"The matter of your grandparents is rather complex…" Minerva hesitated. But after seeing the look upon her grand-niece's face, the elder witch found little reason against the notion of honesty. They had gotten this far, there was no point of turning back.

"Malcolm always had a good head about his shoulders," she began to say as she closed the photo album in front of her. "But he was curious and lively, eager to experience life. My father thought that honest work would help curb that drive somehow, whether it be through Muggle means or magical. Malcolm's little stunt with his friends earned him a wrath to behold, even from my father, the quiet man he was. But in the end, it proved to be one of the best things for Malcolm."

"Because he met Hana."

Minerva smiled. "Because he met Hana. She was a gentle soul. Considerate and kind, like I mentioned before. But she balanced my brother in ways that work or family or friends never could. The last piece of a whole puzzle, he always liked to say. Even in the short amount of time they had known each other, Malcolm said he knew that Hana was the woman he wanted to marry."

"Did they marry soon after they met each other then?"

"They would've married sooner than that had they had the chance. But marriage was never simple in our world, not even back then. True, they loved each other, but their marriage was a social upset to the eyes of many during that time."

Nina blinked in surprise. "How so?"

"Hana Yuan Fey." Minerva rested on the arm chair beside Nina's, settling the skirt of her black robes comfortably around her ankles. "She had the namesake of two of the most influential families in all of wizarding-Eurasia. Both were above showing outright resentment and abhorrence of Muggleborn wizards and witches, but that was not to say they were tolerant of Muggleborns, or even half-bloods such as ourselves. From what Hana described it, they had the firm beliefs like any other pure-blood family—that purity of magical family lines made them superior. So deep that commitment ran, that it was almost frightening at times.

"To this day, the Feys are renowned for keeping their bloodline as pure as the day the Ancestors roamed the lands. And the Yuans claim to have descended from the first dynasty that ruled with magic. A family that prided itself on its history, its honor and loyalty and devotion to old traditions, they wouldn't simply allow their youngest daughter of a family full of sons to follow the whims of her heart. She had even been betrothed to a distant cousin of sorts, years older than her, to retain their family's blood purity."

"But my grandparents," the word was still strange upon Nina's tongue, so much that it tingled every time she said it, "Malcolm and Hana, they still married despite the pressure from her family, didn't they?"

Minerva's expression gloomed slightly. "Yes, they did. Malcolm had been training here as a professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts that following term, and when Hana came to Scotland right after her graduation, she came straight here to Hogsmeade. Their ability to transcend society's standards in those days was admirable. We respected both of them for that. Although, had we known the shortcomings they would've faced beforehand, I wonder if any of us would've allowed them to pay that price."

"Price…" Somewhere deep down, she had a small inkling of what that truly meant. But voicing it aloud seemed to make it that much more difficult to believe.

The elder witch fixed her gaze on the fireplace, watching as the orange flames licked the soot-stained walls around it. "They had plans to meet with one of Hana's old friends in Muggle London. Two hours was all they needed. That was what they told me when they left. But they never did make it back. I don't even know if they made it there at all. An accident, was what they called it—something Muggles called a hit-and-run. An accident so convenient, it's a wonder if it's an accident at all. Muggles wouldn't know that."

"Are you saying that it was foul-play?"

Her question was met with silence. Instead, she turned her head slightly to meet Nina's gaze, an austere mien lining the contours of her face, no longer smiling. But the lack of response was all Nina needed to hear. It made her stomach churn.

"The Ministry deemed it as a misfortune by Muggle means. We learnt to accept that as time passed," Minerva said as she stood up from her seat, unable to feel at complete ease. "When Malcolm and Hana passed away, they left behind their only child. Mildred was in my care when they left and I have been her guardian ever since. I've taken care of her as if she were my own daughter, and for as long as I live I will always look after her and her own child as well."

"Mumma knew the whole truth, then?" Nina said as a moment of quiet passed. "About who her parents were. What happened to them."

"When your mother was sixteen. I told her everything, just as I've done now. Ill bearings have no right timing, as I've found out long ago. Millie was upset, but she said little and did less. Yet deep down, I knew… she was quite hurt by it all."

"I can't blame her," Nina murmured quietly. "I never understood why she never wanted to see me leave for London. But it's a little clearer now. She never want to be alone."

Silence, an uncertainty of words, soon settled between them. The elder witch sighed softly to herself in thought. "Your mother has always been a quiet girl. Humble and sweet-natured—it's little wonder why she was sorted into Hufflepuff. But she was still strong, resilient. A part of that had crumbled once she really knew what happened to her parents, I'll admit, but she was never truly hindered by it. Yet when she lost your father…" She sighed softly. "That was never her fault."

With a quiet breath to settle the stir in her chest, Nina mustered up smile, however dim it seemed.

"She told me about him once. I was only eight or nine. I had a fever one night and I couldn't go to sleep. Mumma stayed by my side the whole time, trying to sing a song or tell a tale to help me feel better. When she ran out of stories to tell, I remember asking about him. That was the first time she ever said anything about him other than his first name.

"He was a true gentleman, and friendly to every person he met. That's what she loved about him—that he was always able to make her smile and feel loved no matter what. And she loved it whenever he played the piano too. I think I remember that the most. Mostly because whenever I hear someone playing, I always think of this… open room. There's a stone wall, with a fireplace and these large windows and white curtains. And then a piano against the wall, playing. It's a memory of him, I think. But it's small."

"Small as it may be, it's still a memory for you to keep. And a good one, at that. I think Silas would have taken comfort in the fact that his daughter's memory of him was one with a piano. He was a wonderful pianist, that boy. He would've done well performing in concert halls and traveling the world. But he wanted to work with the Ministry instead. His work there was… short, unfortunately. But nevertheless he worked with a passion."

There was a subtle twitch in Nina's brow as she tried to let the words soak in. But for the moment, she thought nothing of it and played with the ends of her sleeves absentmindedly.

"I… didn't realize the Ministry allowed Muggles to work there."

"Muggles?" Confusion gleamed in those dark green eyes. "Which Muggle, dear?"

"My father. You said he worked with the Ministry. Was… he working with the Muggle parliament? Or maybe… with liaisons in the Ministry? Or…"

Minerva was nearly at a loss for words. "Your father?" But not quite. "You mean to say… This entire time, you thought your father was a Muggle?"

"Well, yes, I mean… That's what I've…" Nina felt her stomach clench. "That's what I've always been told…"

"What your mother has told you, you mean." Pricked, Minerva let out a curt breath as she straightened in her place. Melancholy and the shimmer of joy she had soon left the very brim of her mind, and in its place was a flare of irritation and disbelief. She had been cross with her niece in the past, but not like this. Never like this.

"Your mother had her reasons for keeping her secrets. I never had the heart to agree with them—but I respected them. That was the only reason I complied with this folly. But to say that Silas Warwick, her own husband—the father of her own _child_—was a Muggle…"

Minerva huffed in frustration, her face nearly flushed to hue that matched their House colors. Nina watched, dazed, as the Transfigurations professor paced a length from the bookshelves to the fireplace.

_He wasn't_…

Nina could hardly think, could scarcely breathe. But that was the only thing that she could make sense of in that moment. "He wasn't a Muggle, was he?"

The elder witch held back a look of dismay. She walked up to the teen and reached for her hands, crouching down in front of her and staring at those dark eyes, scared yet bright.

"Had I known this is what you mother told you, I would have never kept my silence for so long." The simmer in her voice soothed faintly as she considered her next words. "Secrets that I kept from you were about me and your grandparents, not your father. You must understand that."

Nina swallowed hard. "Who was he?"

"His name was Silas. Silas Alvin Warwick. He was a Gryffindor, just like you."

Minerva stood up from her place and walked back towards the mantle, taking one of the photo frames into her hands. As she handed it to the teen, she pointed to one of many faces in the group—a tall boy, with dark hair and matching eyes, standing candidly beside a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff. Nina felt her chest tighten.

"He walked down these very halls, was taught in these classrooms. He met your mother in this very castle. He was a good student, but a great wizard. So great that the potential he had allowed him the chance to train as an Auror amongst some of the most powerful wizards and witches in the country."

"I… I don't know him." _Not like this_. Nina gripped the frame, staring at the blurred image of a young man smiling. "I've never heard of him."

"He was a good man," Minerva insisted, reaching for Nina's hands once more. "He cherished you and your mother more than anything else in this world. If there's anything about him that you should believe in, let it be that."

Time felt as though it had whirred past her in dizzying speeds, yet now everything felt still and cold, a blur in the lines of fact and fiction. Nina lowered her dark eyes, searching for the words to say, grasping for the things she didn't understand.

"Mumma never told me. Nothing about him, or you, or my grandmother or grandfather. I never even knew my father's last name until now." She shook her head and gave a quiet laugh of disbelief, blinking back the sudden blur in her vision. "Silas Warwick… It's one simple name, how could she not tell me that?"

Minerva stared at the girl in front of her with a sympathetic gleam. _Because it may very well be his name that killed him._ Thinking of the mere words was enough to make her regret that very moment in her life. How much was too much? She couldn't help but wonder. Was it in that moment, undoing everything she had done? Unraveling the very wounds that Mildred tried to so hard to protect?

Suddenly, Minerva came to realize why her niece kept up her cruel ruse—and while she understood it all, she couldn't help but think the deceit did more damage than either of them had intended. Somehow, she didn't have the heart to admit that aloud. Yet she had to. The words that slipped passed her lips were regrets she couldn't take back. But even if she could, she didn't think she had the heart to do that either.

**— ~ —**

Nina stepped into the Gryffindor common room, taking in the quiet chatter and laughs that filled the tower. Voices wove together as a continuous hum, but she didn't wish to make sense of who they were, what they were saying. She was tired that night, awfully tired.

"Nina."

The voice that called out her name stuck out to her the most and she turned around. A pack wrapped in plastic struck her lightly on the chest. Startled, she caught it at the last second and glanced down at her hand. Licorice wands, by the look of it, and all in a variety of flavours.

"Not too bad with your reflexes there, lass," the Gryffindor Captain said, grinning with offhanded approval. He sat against the armrest of the couch behind him and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Didn't see you at dinner earlier. How'd detention with McGonagall go?"

"Long," she said wearily.

"Sounds about right. That's usually the impression everyone gets with McGonagall's detentions." He motioned to the pack of candy. "I figured something from Honeydukes might cheer you up a bit though. I wasn't sure which one you liked best, but since you like almost all sweets, I thought any of 'em were a safe choice."

She offered him a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Noticing this, Oliver quirked a brow and joked, "Don't get too enthusiastic there, Nina."

"It's not like that, Owl. I'm just… really tired right now. I like these ones a lot, though. Thank you for getting them for me."

Oliver stared her strangely. "Something wrong, lass?"

She mustered up another weak smile. At the sound of the portrait door swinging open once more, she glanced down at the pack in her hands and retreated back a few steps. Oliver nodded in greeting to their friends back from their late dinners, and turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. But a frown quickly flicked across his features.

"Oi, Nina. Where are you going?"

"I… I really just wanna call it a night right now. Long day and all."

She was already halfway up the staircase as she said this, talking over her shoulder and trying to smile into her words. Had she descended a few steps more, the returning sheen in her eyes would've been difficult to conceal, even more so with her dark-framed glasses on. With a quick 'good night' dispelled into the air, Nina continued up the steps, ignoring the puzzled look that Oliver gave her all the while.

The door closed behind her and she leant against it, scanning their empty dorm as she took a deep breath. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy and stiff, nearly aching; her head throbbed yet still seemed indefinitely empty and dull. She felt unsettled, restless, and no matter what she did or wished to do, there was nothing that could remedy that.

The strap of her satchel slid down her arm, clattering onto the ground beside her trunk. Her feet took her to her bed, yet she had no memory of telling her body to move at all. She stared at the scarlet drapes of her four-poster bed, the Gryffindor banner that hung on the wall. She stared at the lion insignia on the scarf that rested on her nightstand, the silver frame that housed a photo that no longer reminded her of home.

Letters, one from earlier that week and another from the week before, caught her eye and her vision blurred. But she did little to blink it back as she reached to hold them in her hands.

_She lied to you._

In one swift movement, a loud crisp tear resounded throughout the room. The letters were torn in half, and then again and again and again, until they were nothing but shredded bits of parchment, useless and undecipherable.

_For years, she's lied to you._

A dull thud bounded beneath her chest, rendering her shoulders stiff and her expression taut. She threw the scraps away from her and sunk to the floor as remnants of the letters fluttered nimbly to the ground. The tears that swelled in her eyes were getting harder and harder to control.

"Nina…?"

"Nina, what happened?"

She didn't hear the door creak open, or the cluster of footsteps that approached her. She didn't hear concerned voices of her best friends, or feel the arms that wrapped around her in comfort. With her knees to her chest, she only stared at the fragmented words, the unread thoughts.

_Something wrong, lass?_

The question was the only thing that echoed in the back of her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to scream the answer she would've said.

"Everything's wrong," she murmured miserably instead. "It was all wrong."

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	20. Chapter 20

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 – Smile For Me<strong>

* * *

><p>Sound was soft and gentle, like a fresh cool breeze tickling her warm cheeks. It was faint, but she could still make out the notes, the twangs, the rich flow. Everything felt familiar to her—the cool stone floors beneath her feet, the smell of parchment and aged wood and magic in her nostrils.<p>

For what felt like ages, she followed the tune down a dimly-lit corridor. There was a sudden pause, deep and steady, as if someone had held their breath, and the tune continued. Sconces along the wall grew brighter and the lone wooden door before her was pushed open with a weak touch of the handle. Desks were placed in rows and a simple black chalkboard was placed in front of the large room. Instruments of assorted kinds lined the walls—drums and xylophones and bells of different sizes—and glass windows as large as trolls lined the far wall across from her. A finely-made grand piano, black and sleek with sunlight gleaming off its glossy finish, was positioned at the far end of the room. But her eyes fixated upon the person playing the piece that enthralled her so.

His back was to her, but she could make out his broad shoulders and lean frame through the white button-up shirt he wore. She took note of his dark hair, short yet unkempt, and his long, nimble fingers as they danced across the black-and-white keys. On the bench beside him, she saw his black robes and the lion crest enraptured with scarlet and gold. Something deep down inside her had braced itself—hoping, waiting, wishing for something she didn't understand.

Her footsteps forward were light, muffled by the piano's cadence. Every breath she took was locked within her chest, rattling in her lungs until she came to realize she wasn't breathing at all. As she neared him, the scent of something warm, almost spicy, wafted through her senses and she steadied in her place. Cinnamon, she realized at once—it reminded her of cinnamon.

"Silas."

She turned around to see the owner of that voice, but only furrowed her brows seeing no one there, only wisps of color that disappeared before her very eyes. Suddenly everything began to fade, swirling fragments that grew smaller and smaller, becoming nothing more than little grains of sand across the California shores back home.

And then, for some reason she couldn't explain, she felt panic. The feeling took hold of her chest and, by instinct, she turned around. Everything was slipping away, fluid and light and somehow damning. She wanted to see him—to see what he was, what he looked like. But she only saw colors, distorted and swirling. And she saw the trace of a smile, faint but still there.

**— ~ —**

Silence flooded Nina's senses and she opened her eyes with trying effort. Eventually the blurry colors and figures began to make sense in her mind, but the realizations made her feel no less tired. Moments of quiet passed as she stared out the window beside her bed. She reached for her wristwatch on her nightstand and, after making out the clear lines of 11:22, she sat up in her place, ran a hand through her dark locks, and got up to gather her towel and uniform from her trunk.

Gryffindor Tower was relatively empty that time of day and the halls were no better filled. Only a few other upperclassmen passed her, dealing with the last few minutes of their free period as much as she was. A stray first year or two had roamed the corridors as well, scurrying to one task or another that their professor had given them. Even an assistant professor or two passed her with a nod of acknowledgment. But, for the most part, Nina walked through the Castle's corridors by herself.

That morning, her mind wandered to everything that it could touch upon within the confines of her conscience. The essay she had to do for Potions that week, the Herbology project she had finished the week before; Lizzie's recent mini-rant over how Alex hadn't been listening to her recently, or how Fee was starting to pick up on the twins' devilish antics and causing mischief here or there. The smell of honeysuckle and fresh grass from the Transfiguration Courtyard filled her nostrils and suddenly she was reminded of her home, her family.

_His name was Silas. Silas Alvin Warwick…_

She tapped her knuckle to her forehead, chiding herself as she tried to rid the memory. Another day, she always told herself. _Another time._ She didn't wish to indulge into those musings, especially after the start she had that morning. But as the moments passed, she found the temptation harder and harder to withhold.

"Miss Fey." She tensed slightly. Her Head of House stood a few paces behind her, motioning her over as she readied to turn on her heel. "Come with me, please."

Compliant, Nina retraced her steps back the way she came. But deep down, she felt the flicker of dread and offhanded reluctance. For the time being, though, she said little about it and followed Professor McGonagall to her empty classroom.

"I believe you usually have NEWT Herbology with Professor Sprout on Tuesday mornings?" Minerva mused aloud as Nina stepped into the room, though her tone hinted at something that bade an immediate answer.

"Professor Sprout said we could turn in our midterm projects early for a few extra marks," the teen said with a slow nod. "A few of us had this morning off. The others had to finish it in class today."

"I see." The means of scolding lost all justification as their gazes met, and the blow of her words softened, if only slightly. "Those E's will cost you if aren't careful with your marks. The apprenticeships at St. Mungo's take nothing below an O in all the subjects that you're taking."

Nina averted her gaze elsewhere. Her lips pursed slightly and her hands wrung together tightly. It wasn't that she meant to feel annoyed, much less show it. The matter itself was significant enough to weigh in the back of her mind nearly every day. But with all that happened, growing concerns over her grades in class had lost the meaning it once had.

"Yes, Professor," was all she could say, polite and courteous but nevertheless brief.

Hearing her answer, though, didn't settle Minerva's contemplations in the slightest. Her composure was nonetheless poised, though something akin to impatience flickered behind those emerald spheres, no longer wishing to beat around the bush.

"I understand how upset you may be right now—"

"I'm not."

Minerva held back a look of surprise, tilting her head curiously instead.

"I'm trying not to let that bother me right now. To be honest, I'm… still trying to wrap my head around everything you told me."

"It's much to take in at once."

"I'm trying not to think of it at all, actually."

Another frown made way across the witch's aged face. "That seems simple enough. But is that wise? Avoidance is not the same as acceptance."

"Avoiding bits and pieces and accepting what's left of that is all I can do right now. Otherwise I have to accept the fact that my family lied to me my entire life." Nina shook her head at her own words, as if retelling an inside joke she no longer thought was funny. "To be honest, Professor, I don't think I can accept that right now."

Minerva bristled slightly. "Liars are people with ill-intent. People who deceive in order to gain an advantage they have no rights to. Since neither applies to me, then I am no liar. And it will be a cruel day when someone from my own family accuses me of being one. Do not be the first and try my patience now, Nina."

"You weren't the person I was accusing, Professor."

"Your mother…"

Irritation soon melted away in her quiet sigh. She had gotten her answer after all. Nina was still upset with her mother. _And with good reason…_

"Mildred's methods were brash. Granted, she had her reasons, ones that you are well aware of, but it does not make it any less unorthodox. However, I know better than anyone else, she did it for _your_ best interests. Nothing else."

Nina felt the workings of frustration beginning to rile up within her chest, tightening its grip on her heart as if it were nothing more than clay and water, messy and constricting. Everything she had forced herself to lock away had slowly come undone, clawing its way out of the Pandora's Box she had created within her conscience.

"She was selfless, you mean. So selfless that she never once told me."

"Nina."

"But she did it for my future, didn't she? For my best interests. That was probably one of the only things she told me that was ever true…" Minerva stayed quiet, pursing her lips as she watched the teen with scrutinizing dark eyes. Taking the silence for what it was—an acknowledgement, an end—Nina licked her chapped lips and readjusted the strap of her satch on her shoulder. "Excuse me, Professor. If that's all, then…"

"Nina Edeline Fey."

Loud chimes sounded across the castle, echoing throughout the room and filling the silence with a cool reprieve. Chatter and giggles and shouts permeated the air as the bustle gradually trickled into the halls, but no one entered the classroom.

"By no means was I trying to undermine your mother."

Nina turned slightly and the elder witch could see her profile. Slim and pretty with a touch of coolness and control. Minerva was reminded of her late sister-in-law at the mere sight. The resemblance was uncanny. Perhaps even eerie.

"Whether she would have ever told you herself," Minerva went on to add, "I will never know. But that doesn't change the fact that you _are_ Mildred Fey's daughter, just as much as you are my grand-niece. No matter what you think, she loves you. We are your family, and we are here for you to support you. Regardless if the sentiment is reciprocated as equally. Or even at all."

Nina swallowed hard. But with everything all said and done, she turned to walk away and stepped out into the breeze of blooming blossoms and hardened soil.

From that point on, everything seemed to be a complete blur to Nina. Her mind had gone dull, unfocused, as if she had exhausted the capacity to even think. She would still try from time to time, to sort out the reasons for why or how, but the effort only made her mind wander, until it was no longer thinking at all.

Her pace down the corridors remained steady, but even the strides she took began to tire her out. The grip she had on the strap of her bag tightened and for the umpteenth time that morning, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves.

_No more, _she told herself. _Not today. Not now._

But the words still made her uneasy, and the memories that suddenly drifted to mind only stirred the feeling of malaise that seemed to be rooted deep in her bones. Everything had gone dull again. She pushed up her dark frames to rub the sudden strain out of her eyes, but an abrupt shunt to her elbow jolted her from those contemplations and she quickly step aside to catch her balance.

"Careful—" she called out, her lack of energy quickly sapping the gravity of her tone.

"Sorry!" the young boy got out over his shoulder, showing a glimpse of a grin dawdling about his features.

Gryffindors, she noted as she watched the underclassmen continue down the corridor. Randall Yorne, Harold Bakerbee, Seth Troop—all were her Housemates in their first year. She had even helped treat Harold and Seth when they came down to the infirmary earlier that year with the flu. Nice boys, though rather rambunctious and brash. Randall Yorne, however, was another thing altogether.

With the subtle shake of her head, Nina dismissed the group of boys and continued on with her trek to DADA. But at the sound of textbooks clattering to the ground and notebooks fluttering open, she lifted her dark gaze once more.

"Oi! Watch it, Matilda," Randall scorned as a small figure hunched over the pile of parchments on the floor.

"My name's Mattie," the girl replied in a quiet voice, seeped with disdain.

"Mattie the Mushroom is more like it," Harold snickered to his friends.

"Mattie the Murmurer, with how she read aloud in Flitwick's earlier," Seth added with a twinge of derision.

Mattie gave the boys a withering look with her dark grey eyes. But Nina could see still the dismal mien that lined her young features. "My name's _Mattie_. Mattie Rosier. If you aren't gonna say it right, then don't say it all."

"Fine. _Mattie_," Randall conceded in annoyance. "Look up from the bloody ground next time and watch where you're going, will ya?"

Nina frowned. "If you aren't going to help her, then she doesn't need you three buzzing over her like dinkle flies. Go on, then. Get to class."

Randall snorted quietly and nudged his friends, continuing on their way to Merlin knows where. Nina didn't give them much of a second glance, but even if the boys were from her own House, she couldn't help but feel peeved at the whole incident.

_A bit of a snot, that Randall Yorne…_

She lowered down to her haunches, picking up a notebook and a few stray leafs of parchment at her feet.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the young girl said quietly.

Nina glimpsed over the girl and understood where the mean-spirited japes came from. Mattie was shorter than most other girls, petite and plump with a full face and clear grey eyes, though her dark hair had been cut into a bob rather short for her features. Regardless, she was still pretty for a girl her age. And the names her Housemates had given her were nonetheless cruel.

_Even Gryffindors can be a bit of a git at times_, she couldn't help but think.

As she handed the notebook and parchment for Mattie to take, she came to see the other reason for her Housemates' behavior. Green and silver stripes had adorned her tie and the serpent twined with green had been stitched upon her robes. Justifiable as House rivalry was, bullying and ridicule still didn't settle right with her.

"Oh, thank you. You didn't…"

Nina watched as those grey orbs traced over the stripes of her tie, the crest on her robes. Something in her stomach coiled, but her smile still remained.

"Here."

"You're a Gryffindor…"

"A seventh year, actually," she told the girl with a nod. She motioned down the hall with the tilt of her head. "Don't worry about those boys though. They're just being—"

"I don't need help from you," Mattie cut in with coldness as sharp as a knife. It took all Nina had in her to not flinch as the notebook was snatched from her hands.

"Are you sure you're—"

"I don't need help from some half-blood," Mattie cut in once more, standing from her spot with her pack and textbooks in hand. "Especially not from Gryffindor."

Stunned, Nina watched as the young girl hurried down the corridor, her gaze fixated on the ground and her steps clumsy from the bundle she had in her arms. Truth be told, Nina had experienced that sort of prejudice many times before—and from people much older and harsher than an eleven year-old girl. It shouldn't have surprised her in the slightest, really, but it did. Those words, however trivial they seemed, struck a chord in Nina that she didn't knew she had.

_A Gryffindor. A half-blood Gryffindor. _Icy needles pricked her limbs. _That's what I am, isn't it?_

Indignation and disgust churned within her stomach. But along with it was disappointment and sadness as well. For days, she had been trying to subdue those emotions, to move past it and go on. Yet the conversation she had with Professor McGonagall nights ago had begun to haunt her. And suddenly she remembered the words that stuck with her the most.

_Blood started this feud. And blood has always ended it._

Pure-bloods, half-bloods, Muggleborns—before that moment, it never mattered in her life. She didn't care what she or anyone else was. It never had true meaning while growing up, so why would it matter? But in the span of days, she came to see that she was wrong. It marked them with something they couldn't change. And the stigma of being one or another shaped their lives, it defined who they were. That _mattered_ in their world. By that point, though, Nina was sick of it all.

"Our little serpents bite back, Fey. Even a little witch like you should know that lions can't tame snakes."

Merlin help her, Nina wished with all her might that she hadn't heard that voice at all. Contempt radiated off her body as she brushed past him.

"Leave me alone, Flint."

"You see, that I can't help. Is it really my fault that our next classes are in similar directions?"

Nina tightened the grip she had on the strap of her bag but continued down the corridor, gritting back her silence. The smirk that toyed across the Slytherin Captain's features wasn't concealed in any way. Getting Nina Fey riled up was always an interesting sight in his eyes.

"Word of advice, Fey? Focus more on taming those first years of yours before getting all worked up over a little Slytherin like Rosier. They're more arrogant than you think. You saw the proof well enough earlier, didn't you?"

A glare was soon directed his way. "You would know, wouldn't you, Flint? It takes one to know one, so I suppose you're speaking from experience."

Flint trailed after her, intrigued as much as he was amused. "I'm almost disappointed, Fey. You get riled up as easily as any of these other half-bloods around here nowadays. Could it be that you were actually prickled by what my little Housemate said? Or was it the fact that she didn't want to accept help from a righteous _Gryffindor _such as yourself that has your knickers in a twist?"

Nina turned swiftly on her heel. "Flint, sod the bloody hell off. Or I'll—"

"What?" His dark eyes caught sight of the hand she had in her robes and he rose a brow. "You'll jinx me? Hex me to oblivion? Go on then, say what you were gonna say."

Nina felt the handle of her cherry wood wand firmly in her grasp and whisked it out of her pocket in one fluid movement, not even recalling that she reached for it at all. But before it became leveled with the ground, she felt someone grab her wrist and force it down. A clean scent, earthy and crisp like fresh air and green knolls, filled her nostrils and she found herself staring at a neat tie striped with scarlet and gold.

"Let it go," a quiet burr murmured in her ear. Confliction stirred at the pit of her stomach. "It's not worth it, even for a prick like Flint."

Suddenly, Nina felt exhausted. As if she had just wandered for weeks without food or sleep or water; too tired to speak, too tired to even think. For reasons she couldn't quite explain, her vision blurred behind her dark framed spectacles. But as she stood there, gripping the front of his robes to calm her nerves, she didn't quite care. She rested her forehead against his chest and leant against him, feeling his hands rest on her upper arms and pull her close. That cool scent filled her senses again and it soothed her somewhat. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

Everything made her uncomfortable and unsettled—too much for her to take in or make sense of all at once. For the first time in her life, the halls of Hogwarts felt like a prison, closing in on her with every second that passed, muffling each breath she struggled to take. It was suffocating.

"Get going," she heard him say. "You're gonna be late. Don't worry about Flint."

Tears were quickly batted back as she pulled away from him and she turned to walk down the corridor before he could say another word. She didn't know what she wanted or what she wished to do. But what she had right then wasn't it.

"You should probably keep the little lioness in check, Wood," the Slytherin Captain said as he brushed past him. "One more second and it probably would've ended poorly for her."

Oliver shifted his stare from the girl's retreating form and fixed the Slytherin a cool look. Concern quickly left the corners of his mind and in its place was considerable calm, a mask for flooding irritation.

"What, were you gonna tell a professor? Weasel your way in and say you didn't do a sodding thing when she hexed you? You should probably be more thankful, Flint. She bloody well could've killed you."

Flint slowed his pace and stared at the Gryffindor Captain with a lingering smirk. "You think she would've actually done something, Wood? You give her too much credit."

"If it was you that she wanted to hex, then I'm not giving her enough. With all the shit you're pulling this year, I'm surprised no one's done anything yet. Rearranging the Quidditch match schedules, jinxing the Quaffle and Bludgers in our Quidditch trunk, even dressing up as a Dementor during our last match to spook my Seeker." Oliver smirked with matching coolness that Flint gave him. "You've got more gall than I give you credit for."

"A Gryffindor complimenting a Slytherin on gall? How flattering. But, honestly, I couldn't understand a word of what you were saying before that, Wood. It sounded a lot like a lie, an assumption, and even some mockery on your part. Rearranging the Quidditch matches? Jinxing your Quidditch trunk? I never did a thing. Dressing up as a Dementor was all in good fun. A good laugh was what everyone got out of it. Everything else, well…" His apologetic look didn't seem the least bit apologetic. "Where's the proof?"

"We don't need proof to see what you're capable of, Flint."

"What would that be then?"

"The fact that Nina was close to hexing you to bloody bits might have something to do with it."

"Having a bit of fun with a friend doesn't prove much."

"Nina wouldn't raise her wand to a _friend_."

"That's not the type of friendship we have, Wood."

_To sodding hell with that friendship then._ Oliver bit the inside of his cheek and looked elsewhere for a moment to control is aggravation. His footsteps towards the Slytherin were casual, but cautious—his tact and words even more so.

"I can let your schemes slide. The year wouldn't be the same for me without some git trying to stir up trouble one way or another. But that's just me. You push Nina around too much then your worries won't be about her hexing you to oblivion."

If Flint hadn't been so entertained, he would've found the situation disconcerting. "What, you're her guardian now? Protecting little Fey from the troggs and trolls that live in the big bad world, are you? How Gryffindor of you."

"Nina can handle those troggs and trolls well enough on her own. But I'll have a go at any git who bothers her like you have."

"I never saw you as the type to make _threats_, Woody-boy," the Slytherin got in with a sense of disdain.

The look in Oliver's dark eyes hardened. "'Cause I don't make threats. But it doesn't mean I can't start now."

Amusement quickly dissipated from Flint's features. He narrowed his dark grey eyes on the Gryffindor, glimpsing him over slowly with a menacing mien. But Oliver's solemn countenance, however eerily calm it was, didn't drop in the slightest. The Quidditch Captains stood nearly as tall as the other, and despite their different builds—relatively muscular compared to lean and fit—they were nevertheless formidable matches.

_Now's not the time, Wood._ He remembered where they were and felt the muscles in his clenched jaw gradually relax. _It's not worth it now._

He readjusted the strap of his knapsack on his shoulder, exhaling slowly all the while, and glanced at the Slytherin in front of him once more.

"Leave Nina alone."

Their shoulders bumped gruffly into one another as he walked past, but neither faltered from their places. A glare was thrown in Oliver's direction as he walked away, but the Gryffindor Captain didn't give two shits about the git behind him. By the time he stepped onto the flight of stairs to get to his DADA class, his mind was already wandering to a certain ebony-haired teen and the look on her face when she walked away.

**— ~ —**

At the last round of bells for the day chiming throughout the tower, Nina roused from her moment of reverie and lifted her gaze to the portrait before her, taking in the wrinkles branching from the corners of wise green eyes and the long white hair that seemed fine as silk. Professor Crispin Edavane, a former Headmaster of Hogwarts from centuries ago, long before her time and even before Professor Dumbledore's time as well.

Since the start of the period, Nina had wandered the corridors, following wherever her feet had led her. Eventually, she found herself in the tower of the Grand Staircase. It was an expansive place, bigger than she had ever realized with hidden coves and halls in the nooks and crannies of its structure. There was much to see, many portraits to talk to within the tower. She had barely gotten half-way to the fourth floor when the bell rang, and by the time she reached the first floor, she almost thought it as a shame that she only got that far.

Classes had ended for the day and with the clusters of students gravitating towards the Great Hall on the ground floor, Nina found herself pulled into the flow. As she neared the flight of stairs that led to the Quad, though, she lingered atop the stairs, glancing over her shoulder.

Slowly, she retreated back a few steps and turned around, walking through the first stone archway that she saw. Noise was quieter then, almost nonexistent. A few students passed her, mostly in twos or threes and a year or two younger than her, but no one that she really knew.

High windows were the only source of light, casting silhouettes carved by the decorative windows up above. On the opposite wall were more moving portraits and paintings, though more distinct and distinguished; a group of regal Healers in heated debate, alchemists hunched over cluttered worktables, potion masters carefully measuring crystal flasks of serums and brews.

Nina turned the corner down the quiet corridor and nostalgia soon washed over her. Unlit sconces lined the walls and the smell of magic and aged wood filled her nostrils. Her stomach began to clench and its hold began to tighten slightly as she saw the door at the end of the hall.

No one was present in the room but the waft of parchment and ink lingered in the air, fresh from the presence of those before her. Desks were in rows in the middle, the black chalkboard was in the very front, and instruments of various sorts had lined the stone walls. Everything was the same. A gleam underneath the windows as tall as trolls soon caught her eye and the prominent beating beneath her chest had gone dull. Somehow, she felt soothed. She ran her hands gently over the top of the grand piano and the streaks faded against the black glossy wood.

With a stroke of inspiration—or was it acquiescence?—Nina pressed a white key and then another, frowning at the sound it made together. She tried the white key again, and then a black one, and then the black one further down. The more she tried, the longer the string of keys went, and the longer the string went the better the tune sounded. Choppy and childish as it sounded, she couldn't help but repeat it.

"I didn't know you played the piano."

Nina stilled in her place. But after a moment, she shook her head and continued on, repeating the same few keys as if it made a masterpiece on its own.

"It'd be nice if I could, though."

Her fingers came to a halt when she felt someone sit beside her on the bench. An elusive scent tickled her nose, crisp and cool as she always remembered and loved. She gave the brunette a side-ways glance and met his dark gaze with a faint smile.

"Awful sounding, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I've heard better."

"You never struck me as someone who fancied piano pieces, Owl."

"Not in particular. Doesn't mean that I've never heard of 'em though."

Warm hands reached over her own, playing the keys that she did with more robust and confidence. She withdrew her hands from his, staring instead at the fingers that skipped across the keys with a somewhat clumsy flow. At seeing her stunned expression, Oliver hid his embarrassment into a lighthearted grin.

"My ma gives piano lessons to kids at Rosemary Prep from time to time. She always fancied the piano since she was a kid. It gives her something to do throughout her day so she always had it as her hobby."

Nina smiled at the thought, glancing from his lean profile to the long set of keys before them. "I'm jealous."

"It's not much to be jealous over," Oliver chuckled, "I only played for 'bout the whole summer before my second year. Ma thought it'd help tame my obsession for Quidditch a bit. But all I learned from all that was a few keys. Not so much different from when I started, really."

"But you know the piece."

"Just a little of the beginning. It's been a while, but I remember that much. Nowhere near as good as my ma though."

"More than what I know." Nina pressed the white keys once more and smiled at the sound they made together. "What was it? The tune that you played just now."

"Liebestraum," Oliver said with a confidence that Nina saw as truth. "I can't really recall the composer though. Ma tried to teach it to me once, but it never really stuck. All I got was this," he replayed the few keys they both recognized, which only made Nina laugh softly to herself. The Gryffindor Captain looked at the girl and smiled an imperceptible smile. "How do you know it?"

"Mmm. I wonder about that too. A dream, maybe. But it's strange though… I've never properly heard it until now. Or at least, I don't think I have. Maybe a memory then?" Bits and pieces of her dream, fluttering scenes and smells, soon permeated the brim of her mind. She nodded slowly at the notion. "A small memory."

"Of the piece?"

"Of the person who played it," she recalled with a faint smile. "My father played the piano since he was young. He was amazing at it, from what I was told. I can't really say for sure, but that piece just now… I have a feeling that my father played it often."

"Is that why you're here then?" Oliver asked, letting his dark gaze wander around the room. "To learn how to play it yourself?"

"To remember him. And what he did. Or try to, at least." She pressed a white key and savored the light note it made. It was by that point that she realized that the tune was complete. Somehow, she managed to play it herself, brusque and sloppy as it was, yet it didn't leave her any more satisfied. Instead, it left her feeling empty, hollow; a disappointment from seeing the never-ending parallels between dream and reality.

"I never knew him myself. But I always saw him as tall and handsome, with dark hair like mine and a nice smile. A good man with a good heart. He met Mumma by chance when she was seventeen, and even though he was a Muggle and she was a witch, it didn't matter. They were in love, and then they had me. He would work in Muggle London while Mumma stayed at the flat to take care of me. But then one day, he passed away in an accident on his way home. We didn't have anyone or anything else, so we moved. That's what I always believed."

Slowly, a weak smile began to tug at her lips, as if she were telling a recurring joke that they both knew the punchline to. "But then I found out that I was wrong. My dad wasn't a Muggle. He was wizard. He didn't work in Muggle London, and he didn't pass away in accident like I always thought either. He was an Auror. And when the war broke out he was killed. All because he didn't have the beliefs of You-Know-Who."

Nina watched as his expression grew more solemn as the moments passed. Silence began to settle between them—the same silence that made it difficult to breathe, much less think. After enduring it for so long, Oliver stole a glance her way and stared with returning earnest.

"You don't have to hold it in, y'know. It's only gonna make you sick if you do. It's better to get it all out now, Nina."

She shook her head. "There's nothing left to get out."

"Then why are you crying?"

Nina was caught off-guard and unarmed, unable to deflect those words with the nonchalance she would've worn. She wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater slowly, hoping that he was wrong, and felt her smile crumble, if only slightly. There was no point in lying now.

"I don't… really know. Right now it feels like everything has changed. I just… don't think it's fair. For me or my dad. After all this time of wondering and wanting to know… My mum knew so much, and she could've told me at any time. But she tried to replace them with incomplete stories instead. If he were to see how things were now, I'd imagine him being really disappointed. Maybe even sad. This isn't how we were supposed to remember him by."

Without a moment's hesitation, Oliver reached over and brushed away the stray tears on her cheeks with his thumb. "You know the truth now. That has to count for something."

"And if it's not enough?" she asked herself more than aloud. "That makes me sound horrible, doesn't it? It doesn't feel like it's nearly enough… Professor McGonagall had to tell me the truth. I had to hear it all from someone who wasn't my mum. I don't think she would have ever told me. She would've kept it a secret for the rest of her life. And I wouldn't have known."

Oliver pursed his lips in thought and allowed the silence to remedy the unintended bite of her words. They weren't uncomfortable, neither were they at complete ease. Unsettled was the only word that came to mind, but somehow that didn't seem to be it either.

"Remember the Hufflepuff match? When you and me talked at the locker rooms? The whole thing 'bout the game and then Diggory's offer for a rematch had me gutted, but you told me I couldn't change the circumstances of the game. I couldn't change what was already decided and done, so I had to leave it as it was." There was no resistance, no rebuttals of conflicting recollections, so his train of thought continued, "It's not much different from now, isn't it? What your ma decided to do was already set before you could have a say. Things like that are beyond your control, 'specially when you're only a kid."

After a while, when the silence drew out too long and thinking of the 'dos' and 'don'ts' of common sense became too bothersome to follow, Nina could only ask, "Do you regret it? Not taking the rematch that Cedric offered?"

And when the question was met with silence, Nina came to realize her own words. Guilt caused bits and pieces of fractured excuses to bubble in the back of her throat, apologizing for a line she knew well not to cross. But Oliver's expression remained pensive, with the slight purse of his lips and the averted gaze that proved he had an answer worth contemplating.

"We could change what we're doing now or what we will do in the future. But you can't change what's already been done or said," he began to say, as if explaining not only to her but himself as well. "And even if you could, there isn't much of a point. In our minds, it's already in the past tense. Rather than change, it's more like something to accept."

_The past_. For a moment Nina repeated the words in her heard, over and over, until they were no longer black-and-white shapes or lopsided syllables in her logical mind. They became fluttering images and blurry colors, recollections that were hackneyed and overused, as if she had thumbed through them one too many times and smudged the ink and bold lines that defined the memories.

The past made little sense to her now, and as the thought brewed and steeped in the pit of her conscience, she came to see the reality of Oliver's words. She was no longer upset over the past she could barely recall or the imperfect memories her mother tried to elude. But it was what the lies and half-truths and incomplete stories created, what it left her with, that she hated most.

Eventually, Nina's eyes grew strained and weary from holding back her bout of tears. She rested them close for a moment, and as she leant her head against the shoulder beside her own she suddenly came to have an inkling of how Oliver felt all those months back. The indignation and the frustration and the sense of fault and blame—the sentiments were too similar and the lines distinguishing them became faint. Recollections and reveries of that day left her much too tired for her to withstand.

"It's gonna take a while for me to accept what's in the past, Oliver," she murmured to herself.

"It's family, lass. You have all the time in the world when it comes to family."

She could hear the clarity in that voice, the hint of a smile that dwelled within it. And while she couldn't bring herself to wholeheartedly return the sentiment she appreciated it for all it was worth. Clashes of 'could've' and 'should've' left her mind drained and her emotions exhausted. But, for that moment at least, she was given a window to air out the stale contemplations and repeated motions.

The Quidditch Captain kept his silence for the time being and found no trace of the tension that was once so familiar. He understood what Nina felt—truly, he did—but not completely. It was too much to take in at one time, and for the briefest of moments he was almost convinced that it was all some strange ruse, a foreign joke that was beyond his understanding. The tears he saw, though, proved his own perceptions to be folly.

He glanced at the girl beside him and his heart was rendered to the smallest of cages, beating savagely against the bars and hinges as it tried helplessly to break free. Yet somehow, despite how horrid it made him sound, he was somewhat glad to see those glistening eyes and flushed cheeks. Tears were no strange occurrence for Oliver Wood to see, even if they were from girls he knew. But for Nina Fey to cry in front of him was to gain an invaluable currency he could never pay back. Trust, he realized in that moment, was exactly of that worth.

"How did you know to come here?" came her quiet voice, weary though curious.

"Lizzie and Fee." It was the most obvious answer in the world but it left them both smiling anyway. "They told me you've taken a liking to this place since you found it the other day."

She nodded.

"Is this where you went yesterday? After the whole run-in with Flint?"

She nodded once more.

"You skipped out on DADA."

The matter-of-fact tone spoke more than he led on. Even though she gave another nod, acknowledging the fact but nevertheless dismissing it, she had a vague feeling that she was going to hear about it again later.

"Can I ask you something?" Nodding began to tire her out more and she gave a quiet 'Hm?' instead. Oliver held back an imperceptible smile as he gave her another quick glance. "You mentioned McGonagall earlier, when you said she told you 'bout your ma and all. But why would she be involved in all this?"

Nina opened her eyes slightly. She saw the outlines of his hands and fingers as they hovered over the black-and-white keys, twitching vaguely as if trying to recall a piece on their own. The few notes that were pressed were light and crisp, though the next that followed them was pitchy, out of tone. But still she listened on and closed her eyes once more.

"I'll tell you next time, Owl," her voice wove in between the offhanded tune, "It's a long story."

The string of notes continued, crude and clumsy as if fumbling for the name and face of a long-forgotten friend. But the Gryffindor Captain wasn't bothered. And neither was the girl who dozed off beside him. It was stuck in his head as much as it was stuck in hers.

**— ~ —**

That Thursday morning was warmer than most and the smell of honeysuckle and blades of grass grew more pungent as Nina treaded down the Courtyard's halls. She was reminded her of home, but the thought didn't make her smile or frown. It didn't bother her anymore.

"Actually going to class for once, I see."

Nina turned at the sound of that voiced and smiled as she readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I don't have much of a choice now, do I? I got scolded by you and Lizzie and Oliver. Even Alex tried to scold me last night about it when he heard."

Fee grinned. "He rarely gets the chance to scold someone. It's usually the other way around, isn't it?"

Nina returned the thought with a smile. "True. But it's not gonna happen again. I promise."

"Mm-hmm. I'm not sure if I should trust you on that, missy."

"Look who's talking!" Nina countered with a laugh. "You're the one who's been picking up on some of the twins' habits nowadays." With her arm interlocked with her best friend's, Nina turned her attention to the courtyard and the passing students around them. "Besides, Oliver hasn't let me off easy for skipping out on DADA either. He's starting to become just like you and Lizzie when it comes to these types of things now."

"I wonder why…" Fee's pace gradually came to a halt and she stared at her dark-haired friend with a tilt of her head. "How are things between you and our House Captain anyways?"

"Ah, alright, I suppose. Why…?"

"You two were together last night during dinnertime, weren't you?" Fee tugged at her friend's arm and smiled expectantly. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

"N-Nothing. Really, we just… talked. I told him the truth about everything. Well, almost everything, but still, nothing really…" She shook her head with a dismissive, airy laugh. "You always bring him up whenever I talk to you now, Fee."

"I'm only curious," she said with a grin. The pat to her friend's hand was done for reassurance and ease, but somehow it only made Nina that much more on edge. "Think of it as a countdown."

"You're strange, Fee," was all Nina said. And just like that, the subject was dropped, but the twitch of Fee's lips could be seen every now and then and as the subtle gesture was repeated once, twice, it resulted in a fit of giggles that were far from bashful. Flustered and sheepish, Nina turned to continue down the corridor, but before she could get far she heard her name amid the corridors. They shifted their gazes down the corridor, watching as their Head of House approached them in a poised, unhurried pace.

"Good morning, Miss Fey, Miss Wentworth."

"Morning, Professor."

Nina hesitated for a moment before greeting the Transfiguration professor with a small smile. "Professor, I'm… sorry about the other day. I was… It's wasn't right for me to—"

Minerva held up a hand to stop her. "All is forgiven. What you have told me is just as true as what I've told you. There's no fault in that, Nina"

"Yes, professor."

"In fact, I found our conversation rather… refreshing."

She meant to say _'reminiscent'_. Nina Fey was different from her mother in nearly every way, yet she had an unspoken audacity in her that was impossible to inherit elsewhere. She was certainly a daughter of Mildred Fey—and most certainly of Silas Warwick. That lone thought was enough to make her smile, but after a while it made her sad as well.

Nina mistook it was a negative sentiment and murmured, "I'm sorry, Professor." But Minerva shook her head.

"I have given thought to what you said, Nina." She thought for a moment, staring at the pile of notebooks that she carried with her, and soon flipped one open. "I was waiting to give you this later, at a better time. But I believe this is something you should have now."

The elder witch handed Nina a white envelope and watched as she stared at it with curious eyes. With a hint of a smile in parting, she bade the two teens farewell and continued down the corridor. For half a step, she faltered, slowing to what would be a hesitation, a doubt, but her footsteps continued on, ready for her next block of class.

"A letter?" Fee asked as she peered over Nina's shoulder. Nina shrugged and flicked past the envelope flap, reading the clear black strokes of a simple message.

**_Silas and Nina—August 29, 1976_**

She turned the picture over and suddenly everything froze. No hum of chatter and voices and scattered, misplaced laughs; no warm breeze that tickled the damp spot on the back of her neck and shoulders. Only a recognition of passing time, an awareness of past, present, and future. The blur in Nina's eyes stung, but she could still make out the dark hair, short and unkempt, and the dark eyes that matched her own. She saw the strong shoulders and the lean frame through the white button-up shirt he wore, and she saw his high cheekbones, his defined jawline, a look of distinguish and prime. She saw his thin lips as they curled into a smile bearing white teeth and a hearty laugh she could almost hear.

"Is this your dad?"

Nina came to her senses and blinked back her tears. She looked back at the young man, no older than twenty years-old, as he held a baby girl draped in pink and bounced her up and down, kissing her cheek as she laughed and showed her gummy smile.

"Yeah." She sniffled, and then, more proudly, she said, "That's my dad."

"You have his smile," was all she heard Fee say.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 717/2014_


	21. Chapter 21

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21 – Try As We Might<strong>

* * *

><p>Spring came in lazily, snoozing halfway between frosted breaths and perspiring brows. Easter break at Hogwarts came and went with the same listless flow, and clusters of essays and projects from the short-lived holiday were dealt away with and done. After that was the awaited calm. A subtle ease where afternoons meant loosened ties and rolled up sleeves and dragonfly wings beating against mellow heat. Hours passed with wishes for long-needed sunshine and days were counted by the number of flicks to a wand.<p>

Nina savored the change of pace with a particular sense of optimism. Eating breakfast with Lizzie and Fee; chatting with Oliver and Alex and the twins between classes. Visiting Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing and reading about medicinal charms during her free blocks. Playing with Rufus after dinner and listening to the hum of the common room before bed. Trivial things. Simple things. Things that made her smile. It was all going back to normal, if only slightly.

After another tutoring session that Wednesday morning, at Professor Flitwick's increasing insistence since their last mid-terms, Nina left the first floor library tired but nevertheless pleased with what the fourth year Ravenclaws had achieved. Before long, the morning bell sounded through the castle, stopping her short at the open doors of the Great Hall.

Familiar faces stood out from the crowd, and as they drew closer she noted those more pleasantly happy than others.

"…I get it now. You're just peeved 'cause I ate the last of the chocolate scones, aren't you?"

Lizzie shook her head. "You'd know full well if I were or not."

"Then… is it because of the Hufflepuff sixth year from earlier? She was part of the Charms study group me and Fey tutored before. You remember that, don't you? She's harmless, love."

A wry laugh left Lizzie's lips. "Quite the chipper, wasn't she? All blonde and boobs and budding brains…"

Alex whistled. "Easy there, Bennet. No need to be gobbled up by the green-eyed monster. Jealousy is rather uncouth for anyone."

"I wasn't jealous…"

At this, Alex slung his arm over her shoulders and smiled. "But personally, though, I think it's rather cute of you to be so concerned, Liz."

"I wasn't concerned!" she countered, her rosy cheeks betraying her words.

"Then tell me, love," Alex frowned. "I'm quick to catch on most times, but I can't understand if you don't say anything."

"What's there to say?" Lizzie muttered, her eyes downcast and unaware of the friends that watched on as they passed. "It's not like we have the chance to say anything at all nowadays anyway."

Alex trailed after her, straining to hear her over the crowds. "What?"

"Nothing," she sighed.

Exasperated, Alex mumbled under his breath. "Fuck's sake. Is it that time of the month for you, Liz?"

But the narrowed look in Lizzie's cerulean gaze dropped and in its place was a thin, icy smile. "If I were you, I'd stop speaking, sweets. You're seconds shy from being bollocksed arse to face."

Alex froze in his place, recalculating his approach and the response he would've said, before ultimately catching up to the Gryffindor and whispering something in her ear. Lizzie's ears flushed, and as she gave him a half-hearted shove away from her, the grins dawdling about their features were hard to miss and the tension between them had broken, if only for that moment. A twinge of amusement struck Nina and she glanced at her best friend beside her.

"I suppose something interesting happened while I was gone?"

Fee gave an airy laugh and ruffled her honey-blonde tresses out of her eyes. "An understatement, perhaps. Honestly, that Priscilla Pace just seemed to have popped out of nowhere. Struck like lightning and—_bam_. There she was. Chatting up Alex like she was caught up in some sorta babbling curse."

Recollections of the Hufflepuff in question came to Nina's mind. Priscilla Pace was undeniably gorgeous with golden blonde hair, pearl-white teeth, and a physique that was a source of envy and awe for two very specific reasons. She was a nice girl, though; bubbly in every sense of the word and prone to clumsy accidents with and without a wand. Her hand at magic wasn't particularly strong, which led her to take mandatory tutoring sessions. But when she saw that Alex Brooks was among the seventh years that were helping her during that week, she took to the Gryffindor instantly. She had taken a liking to him long before that, from what they could tell.

In that moment, though, Nina could already make sense of the trouble that had passed. Alex was slow to pick up the signals the girl was giving the past few days, but Nina considered him all the more smarter than oblivious for that judgement.

"She wasn't cursed, of course," Fee went on to explain. "A bit overzealous, but far from cursed. Lizzie was none too pleased though. And on top of all that, Alex ate the last chocolate scone she had been saving for the end of breakfast."

"Merlin," the ebony-haired teen laughed, "I always seem to miss the interesting parts that've been happening nowadays."

"I suppose that makes you lucky this time. Awkward silences all around, I tell you. And that Priscilla Pace…" Fee sighed in irritation and shook her head. As her gaze settled down the hall, catching glimpses of familiar sandy hair and caramel locks, her words gave way to her trail of thought. "You think they're gonna be alright?"

"I would hope so," Nina admitted as she followed her friend's gaze. "They've been more amicable lately. And they certainly haven't had a row like their last one, so that's something tipping in their favor already."

"Yeah," Fee mumbled absentmindedly. "That's true."

For the last week or so, it had grown to be no surprised to see Lizzie Bennet and Alex Brooks at odd ends somehow. Ever since Lizzie first mentioned Alex's lack of attention days back, it somehow only triggered more tension between the couple. Fee found it to be quite worrying at first, but after a while she found it to be rather adorable.

It hardly got to verbal arguments, but rather it simply equated to more rants and pouting and flustered blushes instead. It was cute, in the sense that it was simply innocent in nature. But when the passive-aggressive quips and ambiguous directions turned into early workings of a mental Cold War it almost became disconcerting. But for reasons that were one too many.

"Fee?"

"Hm?" Realizing where they were, the petite Gryffindor turned her head, caught her friend's curious gaze, and offered a small smile. "Sorry, got too wrapped up in my own head for a second."

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Just hoping things will turn out alright for Lizzie and Alex, y'know?"

Nina smiled back in return, hooking her elbow with hers. "They'll be fine. C'mon, I'll walk you to class."

Accepting the witch's request, the two Gryffindors made way down the corridors to Arithmancy, chatting idly about NEWT exams and their owls and Oliver's Quidditch routines that were bordering on madness. They talked about the mischievous Weasley twins they grew to adore and the Ravenclaw boy who sits behind Fee and sometimes makes her blush. Smiles and giggles were traded and the feeling it left was oddly satisfying. But when the girls parted at the staircase, and silence served as Fee's companion for the remainder of her trek, it all seemed to have faded away. The smiles couldn't seem to reach those deep green eyes.

**— ~ —**

The rest of the week went by in a flurry of lectures and practicums and long-winded essays. NEWT Potions, especially, felt ridiculously taxing and the end of the day was welcomed as a saintly reprieve. Nina and Oliver stepped out of the dungeons with a sluggish gimp in their steps and a stiff ache in their bones, though nevertheless satisfied with their marks thus far. Or close to satisfied, at least.

"You're lucky you were paired with someone in our House," Nina pouted faintly. "You guys managed to finish your antidote before class ended…"

"Magnus isn't too bad as a partner. She's probably the most helpful out of all the Slytherins I've been paired up with so far."

"I wonder why," Nina groused.

At this, though, Oliver grinned. "Gryffindor charm, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid Joyce Magnus is immune to whatever charm I have left, if that's the case." Nina's smile waned to a thin sigh and she pushed up her dark framed glasses to rub her strain from her eyes. The Slytherin was less than helpful all throughout class, and Nina's comfort in her new conclusions came in the same hapless measure. "Now we have to meet outside of class just to finish that Golpalott antidote. If she'll even speak to me at all, that is."

"At least you weren't paired up with Flint," the Gryffindor Captain muttered more to himself than aloud, "I'd imagine Potions would've turned into a surprise DADA lesson if that panned out. Might be even more interesting if it's out of the classroom."

Nina grinned and agreed to the sentiment with the nod of her head, but the subject itself was still exhausting to mull about in her mind. No longer wishing to speak about something so draining, she contemplated her alternatives and gave a pat to Oliver's arm with a newfound spark of interest. "Ah, speaking of Slytherins… How was practice at lunch? Alright?"

"Well enough," Oliver's expression brightened with a passion she felt she hadn't seen in ages. It was as refreshing sight, especially for that moment. "Alicia injured her shoulder a bit, but not enough to call for a replacement. Says she's been hit harder by a Bludger, so she'll be fine. Everyone else is doing pretty damn well though. The nerves are getting to them, but they're gonna do alright."

"I think our team is gonna win." Nina smiled at her train of thought. "I have a good feeling about it. We haven't lost yet to Slytherin rivalry this year. And besides, isn't our team the best that Gryffindor has to offer in years?"

Oliver bobbed his head in approval. "Can't really argue with that logic, can I?"

"You came up with it, so I think not."

They continued down the courtyard corridors with no particular rush in their pace. A thin layer of quiet nestled between them, though it was pleasant for once. The clumsy bumps of one arm to the other, the light steps of pit and pat. Awkward in an out-of-sync way, but still matching in all the right beats.

As they reached the staircase to the ground floor, Nina's wandering thoughts settled.

"At the game tomorrow… Be careful, okay?"

Oliver rose a brow. "What makes you say that all of a sudden?"

But Nina smiled faintly and shrugged. "Just another feeling. This last match is gonna be with Slytherin, so everyone has expectations. But… knowing Flint, he or his teammates are probably gonna try something on the pitch."

"Wouldn't hold it past them. Maybe Madam Pomfrey should give out House points for merit every time any one of us steps in the infirmary. It'd rack up more points than class participation, you gotta admit."

Despite their lazy grins, Nina shot a narrowed look over her shoulder. "Not funny."

Oliver chuckled and tugged at the back of her robes to stop her. "Angry at me?"

"Maybe." She relinquished a soft sigh to expel her doubts. "Maybe more worried than angry."

"We'll be fine."

"I meant I was worried about _you_, Owl."

The steady stream of students trickled past the Gryffindors and the quiet drone of chatter and shouts had become null and void. Their gazes clashed, and for the second time that day, Nina felt her stomach flip. There was a deep look in Oliver's eyes that was unfathomable—something she had seen time and again, yet couldn't properly explain. But she had no hesitations, no doubts. No secrets she had locked away in the darkest corner of her heart.

For the last few weeks, just as it was right then, it was the same paused moment in time. Instances that left her lightheaded and shy, with something warm spreading in the pit of her belly and something cool bewitched at the tip of her tongue. He meant to say something, she could tell. His jaw was slack and she could hear a breath pitched to the back of his throat. But somewhere amid the halls, they heard a sudden whistle, short and loud from high to low. And soon following after it was the distinct smack of a head with a notebook.

"Oi!"

"Honestly!" Honey brown eyes looked to the seventh years with an apologetic gleam, disappearing in an instant as the girl gave another smack to the boy in front of her for measure. "Why'd you have to go a ruin it?"

"Is it so wrong to congratulate our Quidditch Captain for finally plucking up the nerve to—OKAY! I get it, don't hit me, woman." George Weasley grumbled and rubbed the spot that was struck. "What the bloody hell is in that notebook, Kates? Notes for a sodding boulder charm or something?"

The Quidditch Captain turned and sent his teammates a withering glare that left them scurrying off with cheeky grins. Heat was clawing its way out from the pit of Nina's stomach, smothering her cheeks and prickling everything in between. She finally registered the hand on her hip, the vague trace of his cologne, the warm brush of his breath that tickled the damp spot at the nape of her neck. A shiver went down her spine. Her head was getting cloudy.

"We… should probably get going now, hm?"

Her voice was soft, almost cracked, and the words she said sounded awkward, even to her own ears. But everything after that came naturally. The gruff hand she tugged along with her, the slow pace down the corridors, the moments inhaled and exhaled with the same lighthearted beat.

"You're gonna be there, aren't you?" Oliver asked after a while. Feeling her gaze on him, he gave a smile she couldn't resist. "You're my good luck charm now. It won't be the same without you there at the match."

Nina felt her face grow warm once more, but she did nothing to hide it. She felt happy. "I'll be there," she told him. "I'll definitely be there, Owl."

"Nina!"

They stopped short at an intersecting hallway and found their petite friend making her way towards them, chest heaving to find its rhythm and face flushed to a light pink hue.

"Mummy and Daddy are at it again." Fee said as she motioned to the hall behind her. "She's up at the Tower right now, so…" Her dark green eyes settled onto their joined hands, and with an inconspicuous cough, she turned her head to hide her grin. "Don't take too long, okay?"

Nina blinked in surprise, glancing at the tall brunette beside her and finding the same befuddled frown. But she smiled faintly though, as if easing the remnants of their intentions to save for another day. She made steps forward to follow after her friend, and the rest of that fleeting second became stolen moments and glances and grazes of bare skin. Tongues were swollen from questions that couldn't seem to find voice. But it was fine all the same.

Hooked fingers and clammy fingertips were all the assurances they needed for now.

**— ~ —**

Night was slowly approaching and the breeze from the open windows came as a momentary chill. Minerva drew her shawl closer to her shoulders, flicking her emerald eyes across the length of parchment before her with critical gleam. The same motions were repeated—a quill scratching across the page, thick black marks taking form, ink-stained fingertips reaching for the next roll of parchment to grade, eyes skimming across barely-legible words.

"If you stay like that any longer, someone may mistake you for a statue."

Her dark eyes drifted aloft and a faint smile toyed at the corners of her lips. "You've been there long, Poppy?"

"Long enough to see that the Head of Gryffindor House still cannot grasp the true concept of taking a break. Not even in her own time off."

"Yes, well, these assignments will not grade themselves, hm?"

"Diligence cannot replace respite, Minerva." Pushing aside her half-hearted attempt at reprimand, the school matron stepped forward and presented a letter signed and sealed in her name. "A Mr. Carl Diggs of Gryffindor House came through the hospital wing today. Claims to have made a mistake in Charms class, though I know the makings of a hair-growing potion gone awry when I see it. He's practically growing hairs out of his mouth and ears by now, the poor boy."

"First years do tend to let their curiosities get the best of them."

"Curiosity has cost Mister Diggs a night in the infirmary doused in hair detangling brews. I suspect he'll be fine by the end of the weekend, though it's still a tough call at the rate his hair is growing."

"I'll inform the other professors," Minerva said with a light smile. Recollections came to mind and she lifted her gaze once more, almost as if there was a spark of hope driving it. "Have you heard anything from them yet?"

Poppy Pomfrey shook her head. "Not so much of a peep. It appears there are still positions available in the apprenticeships. Perhaps they are waiting for the NEWT exams to consider the students here who have applied."

"Yes, of course," Minerva murmured as she turned back to the essay in her hands. "I'm sure that is the case."

A moment of quiet drifted past. Poppy settled herself onto one of the chairs in the front row and went on to say, "It is my understanding that Nina has yet to contact her mother."

"She has said that before." Reading began to strain Minerva's eyes and her square spectacles left a bothersome pinch to the bridge of her nose. "It doesn't appear that she is angry. Rather, she's quite muddled, maybe even hurt. But that is hardly something to find fault with. She's only a bit older than Mildred when she first heard of Malcolm and Hana." A small smile, vague and sad, soon appeared. "How strange this fate must be… It's almost as if we're reliving the same memories from almost twenty years ago…"

"Circumstances have changed," Poppy reasoned, earning a heavy sigh from the Gryffindor Head of House.

"So it has."

"Nina has been preparing for Healer's training for almost two years now, yet Mildred has no clue," Poppy stated more than asked. She knew just as well as Minerva, yet hearing it from the matron brought a sense of finality they hadn't expected. "Has it really been that long since they last contacted each other?"

"From what Nina has told me, it appears so. She doesn't even seem to recall how long it has been exactly. To forget at all—_that _is an incredibly long time." For the umpteenth time, Minerva sighed and began to put away the scrolls and parchments that cluttered her desk. "Those two are more alike than they first appear. More than they're willing to admit, as well. The same streak of stubbornness, I tell you. And same lashing tongue when prodded enough."

"From what I can recall, that is something all three of you seem to share." Minerva sent her friend a pointed look, to which Poppy smiled sweetly. "It's rather becoming to see that in the line of McGonagall women." Little by little the jokes had faded and their smiles gave way to pensive brows and pursed lips. "But if it is true that they haven't spoken in so long, then Nina has no idea, does she? What Mildred wrote last?"

"Not an inkling."

"Do you believe it to be even true?"

"I hardly believe that would be something Millie would cast about so lightly. Even with her record for honesty at this point in time." Minerva huffed, "But, still, we have no way of knowing for certain either way."

"But, surely, we must tell Nina."

"It is not our place," Minerva said with difficulty, as if slowly coming to terms with it herself. "I have said my piece. I will say no more. Not until Millie has go on to say hers."

Before Poppy could try to persuade her otherwise, there was the sound of flapping wings and an indistinct screech. Minerva stood up from her desk, suddenly vexed.

"Speak of the devil…"

A beautiful great-horned owl flapped its wings with natural grace, settling on the first row table beside Poppy. Golden eyes seemed to illuminate with an eerily cool glow within the ill-lit classroom and a quiet trill echoed as a letter was dropped at its sharp talons.

"Hello, Vita," Minerva greeted the bird with a kind stroke to its soft feathers. "You've earned some well-deserved rest, my girl."

With the letter in Minerva's hands, Vita's task was complete. She gave another quiet screech, nipped at the Transfiguration professor's robes to ask for more treats, and ascended into the air to the west towards the owlery.

The envelope in the elder witch's hands felt crisp and light. As she broke the dark red seal, she came to see that it wasn't an envelope but a single letter, neatly folded and nearly blank.

_April 12, 1994_

_Aunt Minerva,_

_I will be in Hogsmeade by Saturday. Expect me in the morning._

_Mildred_

Poppy stood up as she watched the color drain from Minerva's face. As dark green eyes drifted aloft, meeting her pale blue gaze with solemn conviction, Poppy was immediately given the letter. Her eyes skimmed the page, however brief it was, and found her brows furrowing in realization.

"April 12th. This was dated earlier this week. She couldn't possibly…" The letter wasn't a letter at all, but a piece of parchment with rushed strokes of a quill. "Will she actually show up tomorrow?"

Minerva's footsteps back to her desk were heavy, but her shoulders were straight and her back was aligned. "Mildred Fey says little and does less. I have not the faintest idea what's going on in that head of hers. But we shall see if there is truth behind her words this time around."

Poppy accepted it as it was and sighed. Soon, she glimpsed at her wristwatch and excused herself to tend of the students in the infirmary. Alone, the elder witch collapsed at the chair of her desk and closed her eyes to collect herself. She had said those words about her niece, and a part of her wanted to wholeheartedly believe them herself. But she knew better. She knew Mildred Fey.

With the silence becoming too unsettling and the cold becoming too unbearable, Minerva closed the glass windows with a wave of her hand and opened her drawers to fetch the assignments she had stored away. Stacks of parchment and tied scrolls were placed back atop her desk, and she rolled one open to pick up where she left off, ink-stained quill in hand and mind wandering beyond the corners of the empty Transfigurations classroom.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	22. Chapter 22

**Simple Circumstance**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22 – Frayed Ends<strong>

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><p>6:59.<p>

Minerva McGonagall was unsettled. Stacks of parchment and piled scrolls were all graded well into the next week. A silver pot of coffee beside her desk was cold to the touch. She had dozed off on the weathered blue wingback chair which was far from comfortable, but after an hour it seemed to be of no use. She was anxious, fidgety, moving to and fro in her office, stuck in the same motions.

Her dark emerald eyes glimpsed at the clock above her fireplace. 7:01. She took another glance at the hands of brass and copper. Three seconds had gone past. Her footsteps were nearly burning holes into the Persian rug beneath her. Fatigue had etched itself upon the contours of her features. Apprehension filled her lungs. She glanced once more. Two seconds ticked on. The knotted feeling in the pit of her stomach worsened.

With her black robe in hand, the elder witch stepped out of her warm office and into the cold corridors of Hogwarts Castle. Her footsteps came in swift, determined steps, echoing down the halls to an empty audience. Had she forgotten herself, she would've scurried down the staircases and halls with the skirt of her dress and robes in hand, throwing caution to the wind. But she didn't. Random ghosts drifted past her, early-rising prefects nodded in greeting. She had the same poised air about her, though her strides remained strong and steadfast.

As she neared the open doors of the Great Hall, her pace slowed. Voices hung faintly in the crisp morning air and something in her braced itself. She scanned the large hall, skimming past the odd number of quiet students and focusing on two distinct figures by the teacher's table. A cool breath left her lips and she made way towards them, bits and pieces of their soft words finally comprehensible.

"…doing fine. You should be proud."

"I am proud." Minerva recognized her voice in an instant. Faint Scottish traces were in every other syllable, but it was the same clear, gentle flow. "I am immensely proud."

She steadied herself and her breathing as dark brown eyes met her gaze. Her slender features were as comely as she last remembered them. A pleasant smile, kind eyes, and dimples on both cheeks—Minerva saw more and more of Hana in her as she grew up. She often marveled at such contemplations, but in that moment it came more as a source of agitation.

"Mildred." Her tone came in the prim and proper manner it always did. "Come with me. Excuse us, Professor Dumbledore."

"Please," the wizard motioned the former Hufflepuff to the Gryffindor Head of House. "You have much to talk about, I'm sure."

Without a second's hesitation, Minerva turned on her heel and led them back to her office at the same brisk pace. She needn't to glance over her shoulder to see if Mildred Fey was following after her, she could hear it all the same.

"Hogwarts hasn't changed," she heard Mildred say as they reached the first floor.

Minerva only gave a soft sigh. "Much has changed."

They stepped into her office and closed the door behind them. Mildred soaked in every nook and cranny and odd little knick-knack with a sense of familiarity. But by that point in time, Minerva's patience was thinning, as well as her nerves.

"You certainly wasted no time getting here. Wasted no words in your letter either." She folded the crème-colored throw blanket and placed it neatly over the back of the blue wingback chair. "It seems you were determined to come to Hogwarts in the same hasty manner as last time."

"You and my daughter left me no choice." Mildred's tone almost seemed accusing, though as she placed the silver frame that housed the picture of her father back onto the fireplace mantle, she smiled with calm, eerie grace. "After weeks of no response to my letters, I became worried. Surely, you would've done the same in my shoes."

A pointed look was soon directed her way before becoming absorbed on the pile of scrolls atop an oak desk. "I can scarcely imagine what I would or would not do if I happen upon the same circumstances. But rest assured I would not wander down the same path that you have chosen. You've lied to me, and your daughter, only to end up where you first began."

Mildred saw the gleam of hurt, the sliver of outrage hiding behind those dark green eyes, and then, suddenly, it all seemed to have clicked. "You've told her."

"I told her what she needed to know. What she _deserved_ to know."

"I allowed her to attend Hogwarts on the condition that she would be told nothing at all."

"Under false pretenses that you have created."

Vexation flashed in those dark brown eyes, but her expression remained calm, collected. "I wish to see my daughter, Professor McGonagall."

"For what purpose?"

"I don't believe the decisions I make regarding my daughter is any business of yours, Professor."

Minerva gave a wry smile and eased herself onto her desk chair. "Yes, I'm aware. You have made sure of that for the last sixteen years. But as of this moment, Nina Fey is still a student of Hogwarts. Not only that, she is of Gryffindor House. And as the Head of Gryffindor House, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of my student in and out of this castle. So I will ask again—why do you wish to see her, Mildred?"

"How dare you." Mildred's calm demeanor had come undone for half a heartbeat, melding instead to a look warning. "You're mad to think, even for a _second,_ that I would harm Nina. I wish to see her because I wish to speak to her—her, my own daughter, Nina Edeline Fey. To even doubt me at all—"

"You have given me full grounds to doubt you and your motives."

"With no regard to me, or the reasons for the decisions that I've made? You and Nina know only a part, not the whole thing. That is what I wish to tell her. All the things you've missed—the things you've couldn't possibly understand."

"And to accomplish what, exactly?" Minerva countered with a particular bite in her words. "Revealing anything more would only undo all her endeavours thus far to forgive either of us. I am still no more than a stranger to that girl. But you, you are her mother. And you have deceived her. About me and your parents, perhaps that is something that she can come to terms with. But you led her on to believe fictional nonsense about her own father—"

"_For her own good_." There were no more pleasantries, no polite smiles. Only leveled words and a cold stone wall that was impossible to break through. "That is why I am here at all. Forgive me, Professor, if I no longer wish to speak of something that no longer involves you. But I wish to see my daughter, Nina. And I will wait for however long it may take until I'm given the chance to do so."

Somehow, seeing her retreating back only incensed Minerva even further. "If the letters you've sent me in the last two weeks were at all genuine… then you will tell Nina every single thing." But she imagined the look of disapproval on her grand-niece's face and found her anger kept at bay. "You will not spare a doubt, thought, or hesitation. Sincerity is the _only_ thing that will salvage what's left of your relationship with your daughter. I will not have you telling Nina any more lies to cover up your secrets."

Mildred faltered in her footsteps for a moment, staring at the stone floors with an undecipherable glint. But in another instant, the look had vanished and her voice, calm and clear, rose past her shoulder. "We will be waiting in Dufftown."

The skirt of her dark blue robes swayed lightly with every step the witch took. Minerva soon felt her legs go unsteady beneath her. The exchange left her particularly drained and the pulsing sensation at her temples began to ring in her ears. She glanced at the antique clock above the mantle. 7:21.

Time was moving too bloody slow.

**— ~ —**

_You mustn't let your emotions get the best of you_.

Nina glanced at the elder witch beside her and noted the pursed lips and pensive brows that she saw. It was barely 8 in the morning, not long after she and her friends all woke up, when her great-aunt came to their dorm. For some reason, Nina didn't think much of it at all—but the fervent look in her professor's eyes resonated with her, and her somber words, however few they were, remained in a constant loop.

_You must listen, carefully and quietly._

Somehow, with every step they took towards the small Muggle town, Nina understood it then. Streets were relatively empty except for the odd few cars here and there, and the few Muggles that passed by did a conspicuous double-take to glimpse at the older witch. Robes of black and emerald green and a dark pointed hat to match weren't a common sight in their parts. But Minerva continued down the cobblestone streets unbothered, leading the teen with the same confident strides and pace.

"I am only here to ensure that nothing happens," Minerva said, more to herself than aloud. "Once you and your mother are settled, I will take my leave."

Nina nodded once more, but she was tempted to smile then. It was the third time she said that that morning.

As they passed the stone clock tower in the small town square, Minerva turned down a side street that led to a small enclosed courtyard. Windows and flower boxes stamped the tall stone walls and a bright red door stuck out in the shades of steel and grey. A corroded blue sign hung on wrought black iron, squeaking faintly as a weathered crown and chipped letters, Regal Inn, dangled in the air.

"Nina." She turned at the sound of her name and found a reassuring smile across her great-aunt's tired features. "You'll be fine."

The words were somewhat comforting to hear right then, but a part of Nina was still unsettled. Her blanched fingers reached for the golden handle that led to the inn, nearly numbed to the bone and trembling with hesitation. Soon enough, the door flung open with a jingle of a bell and a pair of older men came tottering out. Nina stepped aside, letting the waft of tobacco and coffee permeate the pores of her skin as they walked past. Doubts began to lead her astray from her intended goal, but before they could get her far, she saw a glimpse of a familiar profile from the open crack of the door.

Her footsteps led her forward, and the deeper she went into the quiet tavern, the more absolute her resolve became. Before she could go any closer, the witch at the table ahead of her looked up from the newspaper in her hands. Dark orbs, identical to her own in every single way, flicked in her direction and widened at the very sight of her. The cup of tea and newspaper were long forgotten.

"Nina?"

Nina gave a vague smile. "Hello, Mumma."

In the last eight months, Mildred Fey hadn't changed at all. Her slender facial features had a light touch of make-up, rosy tints on lips and cheeks, and her long dark hair, curled at the very ends, was as soft and shiny as Nina last remembered. The dark robes she wore were neat and well-tailored, always fitting her slim frame like the perfect glove. Elegant in the most simplest ways was how Nina always saw her mother. And despite their time apart year after year, that never seemed to change.

"Merlin's grace…" her mother whispered in awe, cupping her cheeks with warm hands. "Look at my daughter now… When did you grow to be such a beautiful young woman?"

There was little Nina could do other than offer a sheepish curl of her lips.

"There she is. Quite the looker now aren't you, sweetie?" A deep voice, fluid yet baritone, reached her ears and she could feel her limbs go cool. She hated the name _sweetie_ more than any other word that fell from his lips.

But she greeted the man with a prim smile nonetheless. "Allen."

Allen Vale stood at a polite distance with a similar terse grin. Her step-father was a tall man, broad in shoulders and frame, with sturdy cheeks and brows to match. His dark brown hair was always cut short and neat, and he wore his suits and ties with the smell of crisp dollar bills and light aftershave on the cusps and collars. There was something about him that struck Nina as meticulous, even since the first day they met when she was barely eight years-old. Effortless in a way that almost seemed insensitive.

As he glanced past the teen, his smile became fixed, almost calm from automated control. "Ms. McGonagall. So nice to see you after so long."

"Yes. Seven years since your last visit with my niece," the professor said with a curt smile.

"You haven't changed, Ms. McGonagall. Would you like to join us?"

Despite her previous words, Minerva gathered the skirt of her robes to move forward before even speaking. "For just a moment, I suppose. It would be rather rude of me to decline."

Nina hid a smile to herself and followed after the witch as she made way to the table. The married couple shared a swift glance between them—shades of brown and hazel turning bright and cool—before turning to join them.

"Mildred has told me that you and Nina have gotten to talk recently," Allen said, settling on the seat right across from the teen.

"That's right. She found out the truth by chance. It was only right for me to tell her everything as it was."

"Then we don't have to beat around the bush about this, do we?" He glanced around the small table with that offhanded grin of his and leant forward in his seat, hands clasped atop the table as if settling any other business deal. "We wish for Nina to come back to the States. I'm sure you're already aware of the reasons why."

Nina frowned. The crease between Minerva's brows deepened. "I can only assume."

"It was what we always agreed on, wasn't it?" Allen replied. Mildred sipped at her cup of tea quietly, earning a stern look from the professor in front of her.

"Your suggestion, if one can ever call it that, is absolutely absurd." Minerva's expression remained polite, though the voice that came with it was anything but. "It is already this far into your daughter's last year and you wish to withdraw her from school? Certainly, I must be hearing incorrectly…"

"Of course, she can finish her NEWT exams and finals," Allen said. Mildred took another sip of her tea. "Those scores can easily get her a job anywhere she chooses. Attendance at one of the finest schools in Europe always looks good on a resume. Scoring at the top of her classes is always a plus too."

"That may be so. But that is hardly the biggest concern at hand."

"Our concern is the safety of our daughter." The words sounded forced and indifferent, like a sentence he had grown bored of after reading it a thousand times. "I've heard the stories, Ms. McGonagall. I know the history. What kind of people would we be to subject our daughter into this kind of life?"

Minerva stared at her niece, completely disregarding what she just heard. "Is this truly the reason why you are here?"

"It is. Nina needs to come home for her and her mother's sake. Given our circumstances, that is what we want."

Again, Minerva ignored him. "Does it have anything at all to do with the letters you've sent me?"

"If you're talking about Mildred's pregnancy—"

Nina turned her gaze to her mother, feeling a surge of disbelief beat beneath her chest. Her tongue was bitten back, once then twice, and her expression was barely contained, collected yet pensive all the same.

But Minerva's patience had lapsed. "Unless you were born as Mildred Fey McGonagall, or even somehow miraculously given birth to a daughter and named her Nina Fey, then I kindly suggest for you to _keep your silence._"

Nina blinked and stole a sideways glance, feeling a sudden chill down her spine and the hairs on the back of neck to go stiff. The air around them had felt cumbersome and the look of warning in Professor's McGonagall's dark eyes had yet to fade. She had never heard that lethal, almost toxic, cadence in her professor's voice before. In half a second later the cold gleam in her eyes softened considerably as it shifted elsewhere and Nina finally felt the air hit her lungs. The veil that stifled them all was lifted.

Wising up to this himself, Allen kept his pleasant smile in place to conceal a sudden spur of loathing. He was surrounded by witches—and was target of clear abhorrence by the strongest of them all. Whatever the old woman concealed in her pocket was enough to make him think twice about his choice of words and actions, which was no comfort at all. There was no leverage, nothing he could play close to the vest. He absolutely hated it.

"If that bothers you somehow, Ms. McGonagall, then I'm sorry. I know everything my wife knows. I only thought it right to answer questions I knew the answers to."

"Perhaps next time you can focus that knowledge on common mannerisms. My niece knows better than to answer questions that are clearly not meant for her."

The cool look thrown her way was disregarded. She stared between her nieces and held back the urge to sigh deeply, tiredly, any sentiments of emotional wear and tear. Tact was long gone and along with it was her hope for delicacy. Everyone had spoken except for those who needed to the most. That annoyed her to no end.

"I must apologize. It appears I have overstayed my welcome for this visit. I believe it's best that I return to Hogwarts and leave you two to chat. Allen?" She stood up from her seat, waiting for him expectantly. As he gradually rose up from the chair, she looked him up and down with a critical eye. "A word, please."

It wasn't so much of a question than a demand, one which Allen quickly caught on to. He cleared his throat to hide an irritated breath and buttoned the front of his jacket as he moved to join her.

"Nina, I'll see you back at the castle." Minerva paused. "I will be expecting to see you as well, Mildred."

The witches watched as the odd pair stepped out the inn with similar determined strides.

A haze slowly consumed Nina's mind. Words that had been tossed back and forth suddenly vanished. She didn't know what to say or where to begin.

"I'm sure… Aunt Minerva told you quite a few things."

For the time being, though, Nina forced everything aside to an unused corner in her mind. Their gazes met and she mustered up an imperceptible smile. "I know it all. About you and her and my grandparents. And you and Papa."

"You haven't said anything. You're not angry at all."

"I… guess not. Not any more, I suppose. Professor McGonagall, she was the one that was angry enough for both of us."

"I see…"

The quiet was smothering.

Uncertainty tottered at the tip of Mildred's tongue. Her hands rested atop her stomach at the very thought before balling anxiously into fists, silk fabric and nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.

"You were so tiny back then, you know. Barely even two years old. Ever since we first left, I've always prayed that you wouldn't have any memories from those times. And I've always prayed and hoped, maybe even begged, that you would never have to live through days like those again."

"The war?"

Her mother's expression became muddled. "Those were dark times. Nothing was ever certain, nothing was ever safe. Your father… Silas knew all this himself yet he still chose to be an Auror anyway, to help fight against something that was no different from a monster trying to swallow our world whole. He was a brave man."

Mildred always knew that Nina was bright. And empathetic. And above all, honest. She claimed that she was not angry, and for a moment's breath, Mildred took solace in this fact. But she soon felt ill at ease knowing that Nina Fey had no idea—not a clue. Every word and action and half-hidden motive—how can she possibly understand without knowing the whole truth?

"It's true that your father died during the war. And it's true that he died at the hands of a Deatheater who followed You-Know-Who. But Silas was killed by his own best friend. And for a reason that had nothing to do with the war. Yet it had everything to do with pride and blood and loyalty, and the failed obligations that came with it."

A subtle crease appeared in Nina's brows but Mildred's firm conviction never wavered. She recalled what her aunt demanded of her—to not spare a single doubt, thought, or hesitation. She never said the words but she made her promise—and she was damn well going keep it.

"For such a long time, I… _hated_ magic. I hated it, and despised what it created, the mess that it made with our lives. How soul-crushing its consequences were. But even more, I hated myself. For being birthed from an unfortunate fate bound by magic. For passing on that misfortune to the one person that never deserved it. For being _blind, _and not cutting those ties before it was too late.

"The moment your father died… everything changed, Nina. We were no longer safe, no matter what anyone tried to say otherwise. That is why we left London. That is why I never had the second thought of ever coming back."

Nina had never seen her mother look so indisposed, so utterly forlorn. As if she had been harboring a secret that had nicked and clawed at her very conscience every minute of every day that she kept it. It frightened Nina, in all honesty, after seeing those mahogany orbs that were just like her own. No confliction or anger, nothing of the sort. Only vacant musty windows that reflected nothing at all.

"And Aunt Minerva?"

"She never knew. She had no idea that I was planning to leave until the very day we left. She would've done everything in her power to try and make us stay where we were. But the final say was never hers."

"The States, that was your final say."

"I had old classmates who worked at PIML. They helped me get settled there. That was where you were supposed to be—where you were supposed to get good grades, have a wonderful group of friends, even fall in love if you were ever so lucky. That was the life I wanted you to have. A whole ocean away, a whole _world _away. A little corner where no one could find us."

"Then why?" The question practically leapt from Nina's throat. "If you never wanted me to leave, then why did you let me go to Hogwarts at all?"

"That decision was beyond my control." Mildred laced her fingers atop her lap, idly running her thumb over the half-crescent moons on her skin. "I was against you attending the moment you received your acceptance letter. But Allen… he actually agreed with Aunt Minerva. He wanted you to go. She offered to pay for your tuition, your books, your uniforms, your supplies—it was as if it was already settled before I said a word. I only agreed after she swore that she wouldn't say a word about your father, me, her, my own parents. That was what we always said."

_Allen pushed Mumma to let me go._ The teen shook her head as it all came together._ Now I know why…_

"Do you have any idea what kind of man Allen Vale really is?"

"That's—"

"I saw him."

_You will not say a word of this to your mother. _His words from that day were clear inside her head, tugging at her conscience in a steady rhythm of regret and intent. _You'll break her heart. And you know that she's here all alone. No other family, no other close friends to turn to. You and I both know that you can't do that to your dear mother, Nina._

"When he came back home from that business trip last summer, I was there. He brought that woman with him. They were talking…"

Mildred looked to her daughter in an instant, opening and closing her mouth before lowering her gaze to the table and settling for a quiet 'I see…' instead.

Nina exhaled curtly, tugging at the loose seams on the sleeve of her sweater. "Allen Vale is a liar, and a cheat. He's taken things from our family that he never deserved and used it in any way he pleased."

"Yes. Yes, I know that," Mildred admitted with a tone of defeat. "I've found that out myself not too long ago."

"Then you know the truth?" Frustration bubbled in the back of her throat. "He's taken the money that Papa left you to support his shady business and the mistress on the side who has him wrapped around her finger. He's lied to you and me about so many things, Mumma. He should have no place in our lives."

"It's complicated, Nina."

"It will only get worse if we do nothing about it."

"That is something that I will sort out in my own time," she said quietly. "But that does not change why we came here at all."

"Mumma—"

"After this, I have no intentions of ever coming back. Not to London, not to Hogsmeade, not to Hogwarts. I've made my decision. We have argued over this for over a year, but you now have to make yours."

Nina pursed her lips, unable to find anything to say as her gaze settled onto the table before them. The conflicted look in her eyes only made her mother reach out to squeeze her fingers, encouraging yet somehow shameless.

"Come back home with me, huh?" Her hands were warm and clammy, tightening its grip as she went on. "Come back to the States, huh? I… I know you like it here so much, but… I need you there. You're my daughter, Nina—I need to know you're there beside me. You have family there that needs you. You see that now, don't you?"

"Mumma…"

"This is your choice, Nina. But this time, it is a choice that you cannot take back."

To say that the resentment that Nina had had completely disappeared would've been a lie. There was still a small piece of it, a small sliver that made her mother's words suspicious no matter how hard Nina tried to coax herself into thinking otherwise. But the suspicions became short-lived after one last look into that impassive gaze. She found no revelations, no resolutions, no reassurances. Only an empty expression that stirred a sense of fear that Nina had never felt before. A reality that clenched her stomach and wouldn't let go.

A swift chill went down her spine. Her head was spinning. The world was murmuring, faint.

She was lost.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	23. Chapter 23

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23 – Gryffindor vs. Slytherin<strong>

* * *

><p>With the Quidditch finals dawning upon Hogwarts Castle, there was a particular edge in the air, one they could feel clinging to the pores of their skin, burning in the back of their throats. Excitement, mostly—along with a rush of adrenalin and a spike of nerves. But it was rather different for two seventh year Gryffindors. Fee Wentworth and Lizzie Bennet were on pins and needles that whole morning. Maybe even more so than Oliver Wood and the rest of his Quidditch team.<p>

"Fey's missing out," Alex said as they waited among the sea of scarlet and gold.

"What?" Fee strained to hear over the chanting of their Housemates behind them.

"Fey."

"_What_?"

"Fucking hell, this crowd." An off-handed grin appeared across Alex's features as he gazed around them. "I didn't realize we gained about another seven-hundred-odd people in our House overnight."

Fee tilted her head and followed his gaze. Soon enough, she smiled and leant forward with elbows on the wooden railing, marveling at three-quarters of the pitch ablaze in their House colors. "All hail the power of Quidditch."

They stood where they usually did during the past three games, about two stands across from the main commentator's box and two away from their House's goalposts. Clamors and cheers flooded the air and every pair of eyes were focused on the Quidditch teams that began to step onto the pitch. Tension among the crowds thickened and the hum of anticipation remained.

"I was asking about Fey," Alex said once he could finally hear his own voice. "She knows it's the Quidditch finals today, doesn't she? She's practically missing out on the spectacle of the year!"

"She was with McGonagall, last we saw her," Lizzie replied. Fee shifted her weight from one foot to the other, stealing a glimpse at her friend before waving the gold pennant flag in her grasp with newfound enthusiasm.

"Right. And she left before breakfast, just like that? All for a talk about _school_, of all things?"

"It's a lot to talk about…"

Alex rose a brow, stared at her for a fleeting moment, and then turned his attention back to the pitch with a shake of his head. The subject was dropped and the weight lifted from her shoulders only made Lizzie let out a quiet sigh. Another glance was shared between the girls, along with some form of an encouraging smile, and the conversation was buried. It wasn't the whole truth—this, she was painfully aware of—but it was enough to satiate curiosity without unleashing a flurry of confusion and shock that no one was quite ready for, not even her.

In truth, breakfast earlier was the more painful part of that morning. Lizzie Bennet and Felicia Wentworth were never much of liars. Good secret-keepers, perhaps, but certainly not liars. But they both found those fine lines being blurred after being asked such a simple question.

_Where's Nina?_

Lizzie could remember the confident look on their House Captain's face when he first asked. Then the explanations were done, reassurances were given, and she could still clearly recall the distinct frown, the furrowed brows, the unconvinced twitch of his cheeks as looked away to hide something akin to disappointment. He accepted it as it was, though; no other questions, no other words. His attention was once again honed to his life's sport without missing a beat and the world moved on. Had anyone else looked in on the scene, no one would've noticed a thing. But Lizzie knew the reality of it. Oliver Wood was clearly none too pleased.

A shrill whistle sounded and broomsticks and robes flew into the air while the cheers around them magnified. All thoughts were push aside and the caramel-haired teen joined in the competitive shouts and chants that nearly drowned out Lee Jordan's commentary.

"Gryffindor's Alicia Spinnet has first grabs at the Quaffle and she's _speeding_ through Slytherin defense. A Bludger passed and—argh! Slytherin's Warrington intercepts and is tearing through the field—but he drops the Quaffle! Great swing by our own George Weasley! The Quaffle's in possession of Gryffindor's angelic Angelina Johnson. Amazing flying as she dodges Montague, Flint, and—watch it, love! She dodges a Bludger—and Johnson scores! Gryffindor takes the lead, ten to zero!"

Lizzie cheered for her friend at the top of her lungs and watched as she circled around the goalposts. But in a matter of moments, the cheers turned into murmurs and shouts as Slytherin's Captain rushed into her, unabashed.

Flint brushed off the mess within seconds and shrugged his shoulders with feigned innocence. Not long after, there was a glint of black in the air and a sudden holler as a Beater's bat struck the back of his head, nose bloodied and bruised after smashing into the handle of his broom. Off to the side, Fred Weasley shrugged his shoulders in the same innocuous manner.

"The big oaf deserved that one," Fee muttered.

"Sod him." Alex said bluntly as Madame Hooch called fouls for both teams.

Lizzie let out a quiet chuckle and the teams prepared for the penalty shots. Alicia Spinnet approached the goals and scored with ease. Cheers swept the stands for a moment's breath before quieting as the House Captains squared off. In a matter of seconds after Madame Hooch's whistle, Flint made his throw, only for the crowd to reawaken at seeing Wood save the goal.

"Nice," Fee commented in awe. "Wood didn't even flinch with that one."

"Quite the serious bloke because of this match, from the looks of it."

Lizzie sighed.

"One guess as to why…" she muttered to herself.

Oliver's blatant shift in focus was abrupt, to say the least, but she couldn't blame him. In all honestly, Lizzie could already sense that Oliver's sentiments on the matter weren't far from how she and Fee felt; though perhaps for different reasons altogether. Whether he knew just as much as she and Fee did, she couldn't tell—and she wasn't quite eager to temper with those waters to find out—but it didn't quite seem to matter. They were winning.

The game continued with Wood tossing the Quaffle to Katie as she passed him. But before she could get very far, Montague swept in front of her and grabbed her by the back of her ponytail. Alex and Fee spewed a string of curses as their friend recovered from her cartwheel in the air, and Lizzie was close to joining them had their choice of words not been so colorful and crude.

"THAT WAS DELIBERATE!" the young commentator shouted over the speakers.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle once more, calling out the foul the Slytherin committed. Katie was beyond livid, Lizzie could tell, and her throw had a powerful punch that the Slytherin Keeper hadn't expected. The moment it passed the hoop, Lizzie grinned with pride and whistled with her fingers.

"THIRTY TO ZERO! TAKE THAT YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"

"Jordan! If you cannot commentate in an unbiased way—"

Suddenly, she froze. By instinct, her cerulean eyes darted towards the commentator's stand across from them and she noticed the distinct shades of green and black. Confusion took hold of her features.

_Professor McGonagall?_

And then she felt uneasy. Her lively demeanor had cooled and her gaze remained fixated on the distance, looking at nothing in particular as the thoughts whirled within her mind. Alex noticed this from the corner of his eye and a light crease appeared between his brows.

"Liz? Alright?"

Comments and outcries made by the sixth year girls beside Fee soon fell on deaf ears and she turned to look at her friend as well. Curious, she followed her line of sight, but the dots didn't connect until she heard their professor's voice over the speakers once more.

"Liz?"

"What?" She came to hers senses and felt Alex rest a hand on the small of her back. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry, it's nothing. Too caught up in the match, is all."

"Alright…"

Despite his words, Alex remained skeptical. His arm wrapped around her waist protectively, securely, and Lizzie gave him a weak smile. Fee caught her gaze within that moment and Lizzie watched as she smiled once more before mouthing 'it's okay' and motioning back to the pitch.

The caramel-haired teen said nothing else on the matter and watched the match before her without further ado. But, still, something didn't set right with her. Something felt amiss.

Fee tried to comfort her friend in any way, but there was little to do beyond a smile and reassuring nods. But the feeling of unease between the two friends was still impossible to disregard.

Somehow, the implications of Nina's absence struck a nerve that made them both flinch. What for? Why now? They wanted to ask those questions, but there was only so much time from when Professor McGonagall came to whisper in Nina's ear to Nina getting her jacket and wand as she readied to step out their dorm. Before she left, she told them not to worry, that she would be back. Fee and Lizzie both agreed that the matter was too personal for them to be involved with, but still they couldn't help but worry, and they most certainly couldn't help but wonder 'when?'

As Fee left the couple to be comforted in their own little world, she let out a quiet sigh to herself, rested her elbows back atop the railing, and gave the flag in her grasp another curt wave. Collective groans and whistles amidst the crowd caught her attention and she soon saw the two figures in dark green robes collide together with a crunch that practically echoed across the grounds.

She held back a small grimace at the sight. "Poor blokes."

"What did I miss?"

Fee shook her head and pointed to the air. "Derrick and Bole had a nasty run-in thanks to Harry's Firebolt. He's wicked fast on that thing, isn't he?"

"And Oliver? Is he alright?"

Fee turned her head and felt her eyes widen. "Nina?"

Lizzie heard the mere mention of that name and gawked. "Nina!"

Without a second thought, Lizzie had engulfed her two friends in a tight hug. A relieved chuckle left the back of Fee's lips, and her arms around her friends only grew stronger. Nina give a sheepish laugh as she found her body immobile and her lungs restricted, stuck in the middle of it all. Somehow every pent up emotion each girl had suddenly seemed to melt away.

"Merlin's sake, Nina. Don't you dare leave like that again!"

"I was only gone for breakfast," Nina said, amused.

"That's a lifetime around here," Fee pouted.

Lizzie detangled herself from the embrace and led Nina by her sleeve to their spots against the railing, almost as if believing that letting go of the ebony-haired teen would only result in her disappearing again.

"Where on Earth have you been?" Fee's curiosity on the subject far outweighed her scolding. "Tell us everything, missy."

"Not too far," Nina said with huff. It was by that point that they noted that she was nearly out of breath, and she had fixed her dark locks, navy coat, and grey scarf from its disheveled state. "Dufftown, actually."

"Dufftown?" Lizzie paused, then frowned. "Your mum? And step-dad? How'd it go?"

At this, though, Nina smiled faintly. "I'll explain it later."

"Oi! You lot are missing the best game of the year, y'know."

Nina's smile brightened. "How's he doing, Alex?"

"He's made every save so far. Penalties, mostly." Suddenly, they heard a loud curse over the speakers, followed by a rustle of papers and a stern scolding. Alex scowled at the realization. "Except for that one. Looks like Flint finally managed to make a goal for once."

"What's the score?" Nina asked after a bout for the Quaffle.

"Forty to ten," Fee answered. Cheers and shouts engulfed them once more and she laughed. "Fifty to ten."

Nina gaped and hugged Fee's arm. "Then we're winning!"

"Gotta give credit for the Slytherin's dirty plays, though. We wouldn't have this many chances to score if they didn't make so many fouls. They're really pulling out all the stops on this one. Even if makes them out to be sodding pricks at the end of the day."

Nina frowned. Her dark gaze drifted from Chaser to Chaser as they tossed the Quaffle back and forth before settling on the lone Keeper on the other side of the pitch. Robes of dark green soon wavered in their gazes and there was a sudden blur of brown, one and then two.

"Oi! Wood, watch it!"

But the words couldn't reach him and the crowd watched as two Bludgers struck the Gryffindor Captain in the stomach, one after the other.

Nina felt her breath catch in the back of her throat, narrowing with each second as she watched their Keeper hang from the mere handle of his broom. Her chest swelled up and her grip on the silver pendant that heard every frantic heartbeat tightened.

_You're alright. You're alright, Owl. Please be alright…_

Oliver managed to pull himself atop his broom, fighting back a grimace as he straightened up in his place and flew back to his goalposts. It wasn't the hardest hit he had taken while playing, but a bruise was starting to form, he could tell, and it was starting to bloody hurt.

As he scanned the pitch and the stands, he swore he could have heard Alex screaming about some sodding thing or another, but he couldn't be bothered to make sense of it. Shades of scarlet and red were blurred together in a mess of banners, signs, and painted faces. But somehow, somewhere, glimpses of grey and navy blue remained engraved at the brim of his mind, and for half a second something in him felt at ease—a relief that came as easy as a breath of fresh air.

Madam Hooch shrieked about a penalty for his team, and he watched his Chaser ready for a throw on the other side of the pitch. When the shades of grey and navy had disappeared within the masses, he suddenly became irritated with himself.

_Get your bloody head in the game, Wood._

As the stands rejoiced at Alicia's goal, he wiped his mind clean and rolled his shoulders around in its socket to rid the stiffness he felt. He had to focus.

Suspense and Quidditch-passion only seemed to have created a swell of heat amongst the crowds that Nina couldn't stand. Her scarf and coat were shrugged off only minutes after she arrived and the rest of the game was spent in the same sweat-inducing tension—one that made Nina bite her lips and grit her teeth for every reason under the sun.

Passes were made at a pace of a Snitch and scuffles ensued between the rival Beaters on more than one occasion. Fouls were committed, and the sheer audacity of most of them brought forth a string of unsportsmanlike words that were shouted on and off the pitch. Fee gripped Nina's arm with the same ferocity that Nina gripped hers, and by the time the score reached eighty to twenty, the circulation in their arms left their limbs numb and stinging.

That was when they saw them—the two third years vying for that familiar spark of gold. Hairs stood on end. Toes tip forward to get a better view. Malfoy was ahead, but Harry's Firebolt had him gaining at nauseating speeds. Reaching the ankle, then the shoulder—broom to broom, hand to hand, they matched in nearly everything as the world around them was whirring past. And then, suddenly, with hands stretched and fingers twitching, there almost seemed to be a deafly silence. A pause in disbelief.

Then the _roar_.

"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! _GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!_"

The grip Nina had on her friend's coat sleeve finally loosened. A breath she didn't know she kept in soon left her lungs and found itself choked into quiet laughs. Her heart was still pounding, and her head had gone completely blank, simply _stunned_.

_They did it…_

Their Quidditch team touched onto the ground and Nina saw Oliver rush to the third year boy and hug him with all he had, red-faced and sweating and tears and all. It all sunk in. As she watched as the rest of their team piled on, she felt her body soon ache as the adrenalin left her veins. Tears pricked her eyes but she was too tired and senseless to try and wipe them away. Arms wrapped around her in another series of death-tight hugs, but she didn't care. She found herself jumping and laughing and screaming along with everyone else.

Gryffindor _won._

"Nina!" Lizzie shook her shoulder, flushed and glassy-eyed but smiling all the same. "Nina, c'mon!"

In that small sliver of a moment, there was a flash of hesitation in those dark eyes. But the look on her friend's face came as quickly as it went and a prominent smile took its place.

"Let's go."

Swarms of supporters in their House colors had bypassed the barricades of the pitch to congratulate the Gryffindor Quidditch team. In the flurry, Nina had lost sight of her friends and as the realization sunk in she suddenly felt awfully small. She stood at the edge of the crowds, clapping and cheering along with everyone else, yet she felt confined, drowning in endless noise and absentminded motions. She felt insecure. Overwhelmed.

As the doubts started to hinder her conscience, she caught sight of dark brown orbs. And soon enough, she was swept away by strong arms around her waist and spun around.

"Nina!"

A soft laugh escaped her and she finally took in her breath of clarity. Nina recalled who she was, who she was with, the warmth that engulfed her and the scent that calmed her soul and rocked her nerves in one single wisp. The smell of sweat and grass, leather and magic, tears mixed with the perfect traces of gold and scarlet—it was a powerful concoction that made her head swim.

"You made it," she heard him say, parched lips brushing against her bare neck as he spoke. "Fuckin' hell, you really made it…"

She could feel the loud thumps pounding against his chest, the quick inhales and exhales that left her feeling breathless on her own. The world around them didn't matter anymore. Time slowed, hushed, and was savored with each cool intake and listless beat. For the first time that day, a wholehearted smile came naturally.

"I don't break my promises, Oliver Wood."

They parted from one another at half a step and his hands traveled from her waist to her cheeks, thumbs brushing against her warm fair skin, digits tracing her jaw with a cool touch. Heat tingled down her neck, and a quiet breath rattled within her chest.

Nina saw his worn, flushed features, the beads of perspiration across his forehead and neck, the tears and sweat that brimmed his dark lashes. She saw his dark eyes catch hers before lowering vaguely and she found her gaze doing the same. Her grip on the front of his Quidditch robes tightened, and as the milliseconds ticked on she came to realize that she didn't want to let go.

"WOOD!"

But then it all vanished. The teens blinked to reality and quickly withdrew in a matter of heartbeats. His gaze left hers for a fraction of a second and before they knew it, a set of flaming red hair filled their vision.

"Cap'n! You sodding… crazy bastard, Cap'n of ours…"

Fred Weasley hugged the teen he called his crazy bastard of a Captain, teary-eyed and sweaty, drunk on happiness and exhaustion all mixed into one. His brother engulfed the ebony-haired teen with a more sane state of mind, lifting her up like Oliver did and squeezing her with the excitement he had.

"The cup! We won the cup!"

The brothers didn't wait for their dumbfounded replies and switched persons, embracing others around them with what strength they had left and rambling on in words that didn't quite make sense. Nina laughed in the midst of it all, lost in the nonsensical moment like they were. From across the way, she caught sight of the look Oliver sent her—the same look of words bewitched and brewing in the back of their throats—and as the rush of heat smothered her cheeks in realization, she could only muster up a faint smile in response.

Before long, the crowd surrounded them and the Quidditch team was lifted onto shoulders. Nina watched on and clapped and cheered, waving at Oliver and the twins as they were taken away to be awarded with the Quidditch Cup. They drew farther away and the smile on the teen's face gradually grew to nothing more than an absentminded bite to her bottom lip.

With one last glimpse at the sea of gold and scarlet imprinted in her memory, Nina turned and headed back to the castle with a renewed sense of haste.

**— ~ —**

The trek for the Quad had been quiet since they left Aunt Minerva's office. A word or two would be said every now and then, checking if her mother had what she needed. Wand, money, slip of parchment with Aunt Minerva's new address in Scotland. Her response was always 'yes'.

When their voices became hushed, conversing in a subject that couldn't quite reach her ears, Nina dismissed it all together and tuned out the noise. They had been talking in Professor McGonagall's office for the past few hours, sparing no vague questions or the need for answers of any form. With it all said and done, she was more tired than interested in making sense of what was around her. But before her drifting thoughts could venture far enough to lull her for sleep, she suddenly heard her name being said and her gaze lifted.

"Yes?"

Her mother and her great-aunt simply stopped to look at her, and then simply looked past her. Following their stares, the teen turned around and opened her mouth, surprised.

"Guys…"

"Friends of yours, Nina?"

She shifted her eyes from her two best friends, arms full of snacks and sodas and attired in clothes much too nice for any average day in Hogwarts Castle. A party was going on—no doubt to celebrate their House's victory at the Quidditch Cup—and the realization of such a simple fact only made Nina's lips curl aloft as she met her mother's gaze.

"My best friends. Fee and Lizzie."

"Ah… the ones you've told me about?"

Mildred stared at the seventh year girls with an air of inquisition, holding back the urge to smile as they stood in the middle of the hall with a puzzled look about their features. It almost made them look like grade school girls lost on their first day of school. She gave a slight nod of her head, and watched as they returned the gesture.

"It seems you have a celebration to get to, Miss Fey," Minerva said, her grin giving way to a glimmer of pride. "Go on, then."

Nina turned to her, and then her mother, as if reaffirming what she had just heard. Mildred looked to her daughter and smiled faintly. "Go."

"Mumma?"

"I know, Nina." She reached out to hold Nina's cheeks, kind fingers smoothing out a loose strand of hair while warm lips pressed against her forehead. "I'll be fine. I'll write to you."

With a nod in satisfaction at hearing those words, Nina smiled and wrapped her arms around her for one last embrace. Mildred sighed, squeezed her shoulders as tight as she could, and kissed her forehead once more before parting to wipe away the smears of lip-gloss that were left. A wave good-bye was given, another look was shared between them, and Nina watched on until they disappeared beyond a corner. The finality of it all struck her as she turned to catch up with her friends, and the tired sigh that left her was the umpteenth one that day.

"That was your mother?" Fee asked first.

"She's gorgeous," Lizzie commented with vague surprise. "Kinda hard to believe she's about the same age as my own mum."

"Mumma never really changes," Nina murmured wearily, and then remembered the memory from before. "Ah… But, she's expecting right now, you know."

Surprised stares sunk into the bout of silence.

"What, you mean pregnant?"

"Is she really?"

The ebony-haired teen nodded her head. "Almost a month along now."

"That's… That's wonderful!" Lizzie said in her awe. "That's great news, isn't it?"

"You've always said you wanted a little brother or sister. That's…" Fee was still dumbfounded as the news began to finally stick. "Wow, that's really big. Congrats, Nina!"

Nina smiled. The initial shock and scatterbrained response had faded in time. Despite the circumstances and all its complications, it began to settle into reality and Nina finally felt that pang of anticipation, a strange buzz of happiness. "I never thought it'd actually happen, to be honest. But come next year, it'll actually be real."

"Merlin, that doesn't seem so far away… But, wait, so—this whole time, you've been with your mum and Professor McGonagall? So then… what happened?"

"Just talking. About a lot of things, actually. About here and back home, Aunt Minerva and Allen, me and Mumma."

"About staying or leaving?"

Nina smiled absentmindedly and glanced at her caramel-haired friend beside her. It was all the answer they needed.

"We'll get to that later then," Fee said as she slung her arm over her friend's shoulders, shaking them reassuringly. "We've got some celebrating to do. Wood and the twins have been asking about you again. You've been pulling off quite the disappearing act today."

At hearing that, a quiet laugh bubbled in the back of Nina's throat. All thoughts and sentiments on the matter had been pushed aside for the time being, and Fee and Lizzie wasted no time to lighten the mood. The trek to Gryffindor Tower was filled with silly stories that Nina had missed in the few hours she was gone—from a crestfallen Slytherin trying to jinx the Gryffindor's pumpkin pasties to toads in the Great Hall, to a set of firework charms going off and accidentally turning a Ravenclaw girl's hair two shades of lilac and green. Her name was Violet as well, which they thought was rather ironic.

By the time they had reached the Gryffindor common room, alive with music and chatter as it was, Nina had forgotten the fatigue that weighed her down so heavily. Their stash of snacks and sodas—even a bounty of butterbeers and firewhisky, which Fred and George had handled with utmost saintly care—were all unloaded onto a designated table and picked at by those lucky enough to have first dibs.

The girls settled for a bottle of butterbeers themselves and found an alcove of short bookcases that served as impromptu benches and tables. Lizzie continued on with the stories that Nina had missed, which left her stifling back her giggles and Fee to interject with her own version here and there, and as their laughter punched into the air, everything fell back into an ease.

Nina was happy. She could feel it in the light itch in her bones, the carefree ache in her muscles. Smiling came easy and the words she heard, despite some not even funny to begin with, only wanted to make her laugh even more. Everything that had been in such a gnarled mess from earlier that day no longer seemed tangible to her in that moment. It was all a far off dream—a reverie of mental complexities that were as lucid as puff-white clouds; soft to the touch, simple to blow away. From then on, that was what Nina did—let it all drift away, from one end of her mind to another. From then on, it was all she could do.

"Haven't seen you girls all together like this in a while."

Their gazes shifted to owner of that Scottish bur and saw the amusement behind those dark brown eyes. Lizzie stole a glimpse between him and her best friend beside her, watching as the pink tinge in her cheeks darkened and her smile came about more shyly. But it wasn't hidden beneath cool fingers or a sweater sleeve. It hadn't been for a while now.

"Distractions all around, Wood," Lizzie said as she stood up from her seat on the bookcases. "We'll let it slide for today, but next time we won't be so forgiving."

Fee caught on without a second's hesitation and stood up as well, patting his shoulder as she passed him to follow after Lizzie. "Only 'cause you won it for Gryffindor today, Wood. We'll get to our girl time later. And don't think you can try to steal her away so easily that time."

"So I've been warned," he chuckled.

Fee made a face at him and gave him a light shove forward towards the other girl, leaving the two teens to themselves. Nina shook her head at her friend's words, dismissing them and its many implications as she looked at the tall brunette beside her.

"Congratulations, Captain." She smiled sheepishly. "I just realized I never got a chance to say that earlier."

His dark eyes shifted her way and he smiled slightly. "It's alright. I'm just glad you were there to watch the game at all."

"Angry with me?"

"Never could be for long, lass," he told her with a lighthearted grin. "Can't really blame you if it couldn't be helped. 'Specially if it had something to do with family."

She never had the chance to tell him that morning; and she could already make sense of the fact that Lizzie and Fee were hesitant to tell him anything at all as well. But from that simple glance between them, she was glad to see that it wasn't something he held against her. He understood.

"Don't worry about me, Oliver," she told him, as if reassuring all that had happened throughout her day. "You guys won—you should be celebrating! It's something you've worked hard all year for."

Oliver coughed quietly to clear his throat. "Actually, I have something I've been meaning to tell you."

Nina wiped her lips from her sip of butterbeer, staring at him in confusion and ignoring the tug in her chest as he hunched forward slightly, drawing closer to her to speak in a voice only they could hear over the revelries of the party.

"After the match, once we got the Quidditch Cup and all, I ran into someone."

"Who?"

"Fee's brother."

"Nathaniel?" Nina blinked. But she then recalled her own run-in with the former Gryffindor earlier that day. "Ah… that's right, he came to watch the finals today too. I ran into him on my way to the pitch."

Oliver nodded his head, the fervent gleam in his eyes beginning to return as he went on, "He had a good friend of his with him—a Ravenclaw from his year. Miles Freyfield. You probably don't remember him, but he was Ravenclaw's seeker up until his last year. Got pegged by Bludgers and Beaters opening game and ended his chance to play for the rest of the season."

"I think I remember him…" she murmured in thought. "Madam Pomfrey mentioned it a few times before. One of the hardest hits she's ever had to treat from a Quidditch game."

"That's the one," Oliver said. "Couldn't play as well as he used to because of that, but he still got picked up by Montrose Magpies's manager right after graduation. Freyfield's working as their prime strategist now. He has good connections with other managers from the league too, from what I could tell. Told me that Puddlemere's manager was finishing up on sealing a deal with its owners for a Keeper he had in mind for their reserve team."

"Oliver…"

"That's why Freyfield came out to the match today. Said he was curious to see who that Keeper was and decided to check out the new competition himself."

Nina stared up at him. "Then… that's means you're—"

"I got in, Nina."

"You're not joking," she stood up from her seat, peering into those dark eyes to make sense of what she was hearing, searching for any traces of folly. "You're _not_ joking."

But his grin was getting harder and harder to withhold. "I'm serious. I'm in Puddlemere. I'm in the League—"

"Oliver!" Her squeal of excitement couldn't be contained. She jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck in tight hug, heart pounding and thick lump forming in the back of her throat. "You… I'm so proud of you! You really did it! You really…"

Oliver couldn't help the chuckle that left him. Truth be told, he thought was nearly about to burst if he didn't tell her any sooner; yet somehow, after seeing Nina react in a way that wasn't so different from him when he first heard, he thought it was well worth the wait. Quiet sniffles reached his ears and he loosened his hold on her waist. The sudden outburst caught the attention of those around them; he could feel it—could even see it when he glanced over his shoulder himself. He drew apart from her and rubbed her shoulders to calm her down, voice still quiet though he wished he didn't have to be.

"It's not official yet though. Still waiting for the ink to dry on my contract and affirmation letter, from what I hear. Freyfield told me that it's as good as done, but still…" He grinned and pushed up her glasses slightly to wipe the stray tears that lined the corners of her eyes. "Keep it quiet for me, will you? At least until we get the final word. You're the only person I've told so far—I wanna keep it that way for now."

Nina bit her lower lip to help keep her glossy eyes from spilling over any more than they had. A rush of emotions consumed her—pride, joy, relief, surprise—all muddled together and fighting to break loose. But nonetheless she nodded her head and laughed to herself as she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her coat.

"Alright. I won't say a word. But I'll tell you one thing, Oliver Wood."

"What's that?"

"I wanna be there in the front row when you play as Puddlemere's official Keeper."

At this, Oliver smiled and said without hesitation, "You're my good luck charm. That's a given, isn't it?"

The rest night was filled with an excited hum that filled their bellies, a buzzing warmth as potent as their shots of firewhisky. Nina and Oliver didn't leave each other's side most of the night, tucked away in their alcove of the common room with smiles and words meant only for their eyes and ears. Others would notice them from time to time, though—their friends being the ones that noted it most of all. Fee shared a knowing look between them, Alex even got in an odd quip or two, but in the end they left them alone to their own little world.

In some strange way, Lizzie felt some sense of affirmation at seeing those two together as they were. Neither outright said anything about it, though the glances and grazes and lighthearted gestures were forthright enough. Everything else was left to speculation and conjecture. But, for the most part, Lizzie Bennet was put at ease when she came to realize that there was no more denial or false pretenses—no more excuses or reasons for doubt. She was almost proud of her best friend—and maybe even for their House Captain as well.

There really was something _more_ between Nina Fey and Oliver Wood.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	24. Chapter 24

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24 – School Yard Pranks<strong>

* * *

><p>Nina stepped out into the halls of the Transfiguration Courtyard and skimmed over the parchment in her grasp. She bit the corner of her lip, hiding a smile that tried to break free as she folded the slip in half.<p>

"Miss Fey," she turned and met a familiar emerald stare, "Keep in mind to maintain those O's from now on, hm?"

Her smile came naturally, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Good," Minerva said, suppressing a faint grin of her own. "Off to class with you."

With a nod and wave goodbye, Nina continued down the hall.

Somehow, a new frame of mind had occurred in Nina not long after her mother's visit. Diligence, in all it was and was worth, had a new meaning and she became more focused than she ever had been in the last few months. It wasn't that she was pressured in any way, nor was she held under the tip of the wand to work on her marks and grades. Rather it was like a form of clarity, a sense of identity that was never uncovered until then. Nina knew what she wanted to do—and she knew what she had to do to get there.

A quiet sigh left her and she opened the notebook in her grasp to tuck her slip of parchment in between the sheets, but before she could the chance she felt someone push roughly past her shoulder. The leather-bounded notebook nearly slipped from her fingers from the sudden jolt, and she watched as a large footprint appeared on the sheet that fell listlessly to the ground.

"Watch it, Fey."

Nina blinked and turned her head, finding that dark grey gaze on her for a fleeting second before it was whisked away in another glare. The purse of her lips had buttoned up a twinge of annoyance, but other than a curt breath to vent the sentiment from her system, the ebony-haired teen remained unfazed. She picked up the parchment, brushed off the dirt and gravel, and tucked it back into her robes.

Such run-ins grew more frequent in the last few weeks, ever since their House victory at the Quidditch Finals. Few Slytherins, if any, were thrilled with the loss—most certainly not Marcus Flint and his band of seventh year serpents, all of whom almost seemed to be very intent on stirring mishaps for the majority of Gryffindor House. Or rather more specifically, Nina Fey.

One day in Transfigurations, Flint managed to hide away the transfigured puffskeins she needed for an assignment, only for them to reappear nearly a hundred fold by popping out of the pockets and pouches of her satchel at the end of class. In between classes or in the halls when he happened upon her, he even went as far as sticking his foot out to trip her when she passed, which was irritating enough on its own, and even more so when carrying cauldron full of ingredients from Professor Sprout to Madam Pomfrey.

Despite all this, though, Nina kept her composure. She expected that much, quite honestly; and from a person like Marcus Flint, no less. He never really did perturb her when she was around her friends—not even when around Oliver. He caught on to the Slytherin's antics, though, after the first few days, and the only reason he hadn't hexed the git right then and there was mostly due to Nina's insistence.

So long as she was fine, she reasoned, then there was no need to have a confrontation. But there were exceptions she didn't anticipate.

Just as she turned to continue down the hall, the clatter of books and parchment fluttering to the ground caught her attention once more and she glimpsed further down, not bothering to hold back her frown of distaste as her pace quickened to approach the escalating scene.

_Honestly, this Randall Yorne…_

"Oi! You lot—go ahead, try that again!"

At seeing the wand in the Slytherin's grasp, Nina hurried forward to push it aside.

"You're out of your mind if you think you can raise your wand to a group of first years."

His dark eyes settled on her features and the sudden spark she saw only seemed to harden. "If you kept your bloody cubs in chains, then I wouldn't have to."

"Then that's a concern for other Gryffindors. Not for serpents like you." The sympathetic glance she gave to the first year girl didn't go unnoticed, but it quickly disappeared as she stared up at taller teen, ignoring his scowl all the while. "Take your Housemate and leave them alone."

"They deserve a beating, doesn't matter who gives it to them. At the rate you're going, I could almost say the same goes for you."

"And you think you're gonna be the one to do it?" Nina glanced over her shoulder and rose her brows slightly at the tall brunette that appeared behind her. "Go ahead and try, Flint. We could all use a good laugh. She'd probably have you groveling on the ground before you could raise a wand."

"Ah, so the family portrait's complete. As if we hadn't had enough doses of Gryffindor majesty for the day." Flint's vague grimace had melded into a cool glare, shifting between the members of his rival House before settling on the Gryffindor Captain at the forefront of them all. "You aren't gonna be there to save the day all the time, Wood. Keep your little brats in line before someone else does it for you."

"Try learning from the same playbook before running to me with your grievances, Flint."

With a narrowed look shared between them, Flint turned on his heel and grabbed his Housemate's pack from the ground, shouting for her to hurry up as she picked up the last loose sheet that had fallen. Nina sensed something shifting past her and she tugged at the hoods of the first years who tried to leave.

"You lot are right pricks with how you're acting towards this girl. Even if she is from Slytherin, she doesn't deserve being bullied by the likes of you three. Do it again, and we might actually let the Slytherins have you."

"_Prick?_" Randall Yorne wrenched back the fistful of his robe from Nina's grasp and straightened his attire. "Did you just call me a prick? Oi, Wood!"

Oliver ignored his protests as he grabbed him by the back of his robe once more. "'Oi'? You don't 'oi' a lad who has you by the scruff of your collar. Quit your blatherin' and listen to her."

"She's a friend of yours?"

"She is. A close friend of mine, actually. So if you give her a hard time I'm not letting you off easy, Randall."

His friends stood in their places and watched on, unsure if they should wedge in a word or two. Randall simply glanced at them, almost as if glaring at their uselessness, and lifted his chin like it made him two feet taller. Nina bit her lip again to hold back a bubbling urge to laugh. Oliver felt his left eye twitch vaguely.

"You're in the same House as us, Wood. Give us a break already."

"You're a pain in my arse is what you are."

"Oi! What makes you think you can call me names? Even if you are from my House, I'm not afraid of you."

"You've been wearing your death wish as a cape since we got back from the holidays. Don't need me to be afraid of. Go ahead and see what happens when your brother gets wind of what happened this time. He's been ready to knock you down a peg or two since he heard about your last stunt with the Ravenclaws. Same goes for you two—Bakerbee, Troop. If it isn't Erich, then I've got two galleons that say it'll be Rosier's older brother or sister. And they aren't anywhere near as merciful as Flint, so count your blessings, Yorne."

Wrath of Slytherins couldn't compare to that of Erich Yorne in the eyes of the first year. Mere mention of Randall's older brother—who, by chance, happened to be one of Oliver's roommates and good friends—was enough to tweak Randall's manner of conduct somewhat.

"Alright, alright. Bloody hell, I get it already."

"Apologize to her when you see her. Maybe then you can get off easy," Nina told them as she let loose his friend's hood.

Randall sneered at the audacity of it. "What? To _Rosier_? Why? We were just joking around. It's not my fault she's so bloody clumsy. Besides, it's not like she'll remember anyway."

Honestly, Nina was never one for losing her temper, but even she had to admit that her thinning patience was on the verge of doing its own bidding that time. She gave the first years a long, scrutinizing stare, taking note of their aloof expressions and the air of arrogance around them. But in the end, she was unwilling to put up with them more than she could. She simply sighed and muttered to herself before tilting her head towards the hall behind them.

"Get to class then. If you're done here then you don't need to be lingering about," was all Nina told them.

Without so much as a second glance, the Gryffindors parted ways to continue on to their classes. Not long afterwards, though—maybe half a step later—abrupt yelps and shouts of surprise soon melted into quiet groans of hurt prides and shins. Oliver turned his head and watched as the three Gryffindors boys laid on the cool stone floor, their shoelaces knotted together and their robes splayed around them.

With a huff of annoyance from one and squeaks of embarrassment from the others, the three boys loosened their laces and scrounged up their packs from the ground, weaving in between the flow of students that watched on in confusion or amusement. The Gryffindor Captain glanced at the girl beside him with a faint smirk.

"You can be rather cheeky at times."

Nina met his gaze with innocuous ease and shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

**— ~ —**

"What do you have in mind?" Oliver asked as he set a vial of crystalline powder onto their table.

"Don't know," Nina murmured.

It was their last class of the day that Monday and the Gryffindors were both rather eager to finish up a potion that had been the source of stress-induced rants since the previous week. Those hopes were nearly dashed after finding their brew a strange mint color—far from the deep blue that an Oblivious Unction potion was supposed to be. After a while, they both wondered if almost a week's worth work had suddenly been all for naught.

"I might've measured the milk of butterbur incorrectly." Nina scratched the back of her head. "Or maybe I left it out to sit too long before I added it."

"Or maybe there's an outside source to our misfortune."

The ebony-haired teen tilted her head and glanced at the Slytherin at the back table leisurely flipping through his textbook. Beside him, his partner was hunched over a flask and vial with enough concentration to burn a hole right through the glass. Nina became skeptical.

"Grade school pranks are more of Flint's style. Mucking about in Potions is rather dangerous, even for him."

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, miffed at the thought of it all though serious nonetheless. "Flint doesn't have a style. He's a prick in any way he deems fit. More than likely he did do something. Should I get it out of him and check myself?"

She laughed lightly to herself. "And have you serve detentions every day till we graduate? Not worth it, Owl."

"Then let the twins have their way with him," Oliver said as he leant against their table. "They've been itching to stir up trouble some way or another. I could see it in their eyes the past few days. They'd probably have a ball if Flint was their target."

"You're getting distracted," Nina told him with an air of lighthearted reprimand. "Go and get us some nymph wraith kernels."

Confusion crossed his features. "What's that?"

"Erm… kernels, little seed things. They're black, and really tiny. It's what nymph wraiths eat. Or partially eat, anyway. It comes from their stomachs."

"Appetizing."

"Actually, it tastes rather sweet most of the time." He rose his brows in wonder, to which she smiled faintly and nodded her head. "Really. Now, go get 'em—we have a potion to finish, Owl."

With a subtle shake of his head, Oliver turned to walk back to the storage room, leaving Nina to dismiss the notion of Slytherin hijinks and focus her attention back to their potion.

A small measure of moonstone fragments was placed in her mortar and ground into a fine powder, carefully mixed into the brew while stirring clockwise once then anticlockwise twice, as the recipe demanded. Swells of blue and green became noticeable and she nodded in satisfaction. Despite the color, it was turning out rather well.

Tension left Nina's shoulders at the thought and she slipped off her dark-framed spectacles to help rid the taut pressure building up behind her eyes. The smell of milk and salt lingered in her nose and she was comforted by another positive sign for their potion. But soon enough the smell became too metallic—too harsh and sharp to be what was intended. She peered into the cauldron and noted the pungent waft of copper and tin. The brew that was once the shade of green and blue had somehow become a sheer white, boiling and agitated like fire sprites fighting to stay aflame.

Making sense of what could have gone wrong was near impossible by that point; she didn't even know where to begin. Traces of moonstone soon fused into the brew with a spark of rainbow, but the mere sight of it only made her brows knit together.

_The only way moonstone would react like this…_

Then it all clicked. Nina quickly reached for her wand at the edge of the table. But the realization came too late and the sparks of rainbow had ignited. A brilliant, bright light exploded into the air above their table and the world suddenly passed her in a dull blur. Thick wafts filling her nostrils sprouted a fit of coughs and as she laid there on her back, reeling in what had just happened, the ringing in her ears still remained and the bleary images proved difficult to blink away.

Oliver heard the blast, along with startled cry that came with it, and stepped out of the storage room with piqued curiosity. Surprise shook him harder than he anticipated and he reached the ebony-haired teen in a matter of strides. Laughter from Gryffindors and Slytherins alike pocked the air, and truth be told if Oliver hadn't been so concerned he might have joined them.

"Are you alright? Oi—Nina."

She sputtered out a cough, but other than the white smoke lingering about and filling her lungs, she seemed to fine. A weak nod of her head proved so and he reached to grab her hand. "C'mon, get up, lass."

He pulled her to her feet with little difficulty, though her legs were still unsteady and he had to lead her to the other stool to help gather her bearings. As he picked up her notebook and wand and fixed the other stool upright, he could already hear the footsteps storming towards them.

"_What_, I dare ask, do you think you two think you were _making_?"

"An Oblivious Unction potion," Oliver said simply.

Professor Snape took a look into their cauldron and scowled as he held a robed sleeve to his nose. "Not likely."

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek, a sedative trick he had learnt over the years under the teachings of Serverus Snape, and glanced at the girl beside him when he felt her tug at his robes. Her brows had creased faintly and the twitch of her cheeks showed a trace of confliction that he couldn't comprehend.

"Oliver…"

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I can't see," she murmured.

"What?"

The laughter lingered like a faint echo. Then there was a stillness, subtle and quick like a cool draft, hanging by the mere thread of their words.

"I can't… see anything."

Professor Snape's scowled expression soon sobered and he reached over to the teen to grab her chin. She flinched at the rough grasp, but her absentminded blinks reacted to nothing, not even to the glowing light at the tip of Snape's wand. Oliver watched, stunned, as Snape tested her once, twice, and dropped her chin to check their cauldron. His expression turned cold.

"Wood, take her to Madam Pomfrey."

"Y… Yeah," he mumbled numbly.

He took the girl by her arm when she stood up from her seat and they left the classroom at their stumbled pace. Steel grey eyes refused to lift from the mahogany table, and in that split second when it briefly did, meeting that dark brown gaze and reflecting what could only be seen as regret, it all suddenly made sense. And by that point, Oliver held back no malice.

Oliver wasn't daft—he was aware of what had been transpiring over the last few weeks, and while he had his reservations he never imagined it would go so far. But the proof was blatant enough to prove it all wrong, and the resentment and indignation boiling within him were caused by things he couldn't easily forgive. For the moment, though, when he felt her grip on his arm tighten and her steps began to feel shaky, he forced himself to push it aside. It was something that would have to wait till later.

By the time they reached a few steps out of their Potions class, Nina had stumbled for the umpteenth time since their trek. Oliver stopped them from going any further.

"I'll carry you. Is that alright?"

She looked as though she was ready to protest, but stopped for second and gave a hesitant nod of her head instead. With his right hand on her waist and his left behind her knees, Oliver lifted her off her feet with relative ease. Her arms wrapped around his neck by instinct and the sudden close proximity only made the Gryffindor Captain hide his flush of embarrassment with a huff.

"Am I too heavy?"

"Yeah, you weigh a bloody ton, lass," he told her in strain.

"If you drop me, Oliver Wood—"

"You'll what?" he asked in amusement.

"I'll… I'll repeat what happened yesterday with Yorne," she muttered.

"Alright. But don't do it now, I'll drop you for sure then."

Nina smacked his shoulder lightly, to which he grinned. He hitched her up a bit to get a better hold on her, only to hear a sudden quiet yelp escape her. Arms around his neck tightened and he held back a wince at the sudden shift in weight.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"No, just… a bit surprised, is all."

"I'll warn you next time," he said with a light chuckle. Nina nodded. A bout of silence passed and his expression grew more earnest. "How bad is it?"

"It's all white. Kinda too bright, to be honest."

"Any pain?"

"Just a headache." She smiled and patted his shoulder, as if sensing the frown that dragged the corners of his lips. "I'm okay, Owl. It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix."

"I s'ppose that's true."

"You don't sound too convinced, Mr. Wood," she said, poking his chest.

"You're _blind_, lass. It's no Bludger to the head, but I reckon that's still one hell of a thing to Heal."

"Mm. Not as painful, I'd imagine."

"Getting knocked out cold might have something to do with it, aye? Nature's anesthetic, I think was what Pomfrey called it last time."

A smile began to surface across her features, and Oliver found himself smiling along with her. The fact that she was smiling at all had him put at ease in some form or another. But, in all honesty, a part of him felt as if she was doing it more for his sake than her own.

Before long, they reached the infirmary. Nina insisted that she could walk the rest of the way, and despite Oliver's initial objections, he obliged her anyway. They were greeted with a bewildered school matron, fussing on about something that Oliver couldn't quite catch, though her motions pointing him to a bed were understandable enough.

"I think Pomfrey has a soft spot for you," he told the ebony-haired teen as he helped ease her onto the white bed. "She's never made this much of an uproar when me or the others are in here."

Nina laughed at the glimmer of truth in it. "You should've seen her when she saw me here back in fifth year. She wasn't too pleased with that one either—cursing and scolding the Slytherins as she did. Got pretty heated with Professor Snape, too."

"Pomfrey and Snape squaring off? Oh, I'd pay to see that one."

Nina grinned and stifled it into her sleeve when she could hear Madam Pomfrey rushing towards them.

"What happened, dearie? Are you in pain? Bleeding, broken bones?"

"She can't see," Oliver told her.

"Can't see? What do you mean, how so?"

"It was an accident in Professor Snape's class—"

"Someone tampered with our potion," Oliver cut in with a matter-of-fact tone.

Brows creased vaguely but Nina didn't correct him, saying instead, "It was a cauldron blast."

"I see." Pomfrey drew her wand, lighting the tip like Snape did before, and waved it before Nina's eyes. When nothing responded, she sighed softly to herself and dimmed her wand with a tap to the handle. "That's quite the nasty effect then."

"What exactly happened anyway?"

Surprise took hold of Nina when she noticed that Oliver's voice sounded closer, more clear, as if right in next to her. A familiar waft of cologne lingered in her nostrils and she took a quiet breath to calm her nerves. "Ah… you mean with the potion?"

"Yeah. Oblivious Unction is supposed to burn when it goes bad, not blow up. I can't remember reading anything about it saying otherwise, at least."

"I… can't say for sure, but I think I saw something mix with the powdered moonstone before it all went off."

"Saw what?"

"Lucifer's Light."

"The stuff from fireflies?" Then his voice changed, becoming so dull and quiet that it nearly sent goose-bumps down her arms. "The same stuff that the Slytherins have been using in their Fluorescence potions this whole week."

"Oliver—"

"Wood, go get Professor McGonagall." They had forgotten that their matron was there at all, listening to every word with a pensive purse of her lips. "I think it's best for your Head of House to be here at this point time."

"But—"

"I won't ask you again," Pomfrey countered with an assertion that almost any other Healer would use. "Now go and get Professor McGonagall."

After catching the stern look on the school matron's face, Oliver found few reasons to protest. He glimpsed at the ebony-haired teen on the bed one last time before looking to the pale-eyed witch and nodding his head slightly. "I'll be back later then."

"Off with you."

The Gryffindor Captain left without another word, though the matron watched him every step of the way until he disappeared from her sight. A bright smile began to work its way through her aged features and she thought it was a pity that the teen beside her wasn't able to see it. She would've turned ten shades of pink then.

"Oh, the fortunes of youth and love." Ten shades of pink dabbled the teen's cheeks nonetheless, which only made Poppy Pomfrey chuckle heartily to herself. "Come now, let's get your robe and shoes off. Might as well make you comfortable, hm?"

The bell rang not long before the Gryffindor Head of House arrived at the infirmary. Concern traced the tall witch's profile and she had to pause for a second to catch her breath. But her composure was regained as she approached Madam Pomfrey, voice quiet but still considerably anxious.

"Is it true? What Wood told me?"

"Yes, it appears so. Powdered moonstone and Lucifer's Light is a powerful blast. Loss of eyesight is lucky, but it's not easy to treat. Especially not like this."

"Is there nothing we can do here?"

"Prosana Visus. A horridly strong potion. It'll be hell for her these next few days, but it's the only thing strong enough to reverse blindness within this time-frame. The other option would be sending her to St. Mungo's. Perhaps that would be better for her. I've taught the Healer-in-charge of the ground floor, he's brilliant at Healing cauldron explosions—"

"I'll do it." Nina voiced instantly. Hearing any more would've only dug that seed of fear that much further down. "I'll take the potion."

There was a silence, what she imagined was an exchange of glances, and a cool intake of breath. "Are you sure, Nina? It would probably be much less strenuous if you were to go St. Mungo's. You'd be surrounded by Healers—you'll know you're in good hands there."

She shook her head at the school matron's words. "It's okay. I trust your hand at Healing, Madam Pomfrey. And to be honest, I'd… feel more comfortable staying here than at St. Mungo's."

"Very well," her grand-aunt finally said. "I will go and inform your professors. I'll see to it that Serverus and Pomona have all the supplies you need as well, Poppy. Nina." Cool hands wrapped around hers and a soft, comforting pat left with a strange sense of comfort to linger about. "You get some rest. I will be by to check on you later."

With nod of her head and a vague sort of smile, Nina soon felt those cool palms leave her own. Hard clicks of heels against stone echoed throughout the infirmary and Madame Pomfrey began to shuffle around in some short distance. As it all began to sink in, a thought came to mind, which she voiced aloud to both the older witches.

"Is Oliver here?"

Clicks down the hall stopped short. "I've sent Mr. Wood back to class, though the bell rang not long after. Perhaps he went to inform Miss Wentworth and Miss Bennet with what has happened?"

Worry sunk to the pit of Nina's stomach. Accepting it as it was, though, the teen nodded her head and thanked her Head of House. The rhythmic patter of heels continued and a lullaby of clattering crystal and porcelain soon filled the room.

**— ~ —**

Nina's senses felt as if they were going haywire. Too sensitive, too overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the slightest raise of a hand or twitch of a leg. It was off-putting, to say the least, but more than that it was draining. Distinguishing one void over the other was disconcerting on its own, and after a while she was too worn to try and make sense of what was left and what was right.

Time passed in increments Nina couldn't measure until she felt someone shake her shoulder gently, and all she could remember were the vague motions of sitting upright in her bed and the weight against her neck and shoulders. A simple hug, if nothing else.

"God, are you okay, Nina?"

Piecing together that voice and the faint wafts of linen, Nina smiled wholeheartedly and nodded her head. "I'll be fine, Liz."

"Wood told us everything. Is it any better? How is it now?"

"Not much better, to be honest. But it's alright, Fee, I'm hanging in there."

"That Marcus Flint, I swear to Merlin." There was an irritated grunt on Fee's behalf, along with the faint shuffle of feet walking back and forth in a short pace. "If I were there, I would've hexed him inside out. Would've given him the whole lot of boils and blisters and make him croak out frogs while I was at it."

"I would've thrown in an elephant trunk to cover up that crooked grin of his if I had a go. Who knows what the twins'll do once they hear about all this."

"They're not here with you?"

"Last I heard from Angie they got detentions with Professor Sprout for messing around with a Jubilee tree," Fee said. "Not so joyous when their branches are tickled two days shy from their harvest date. I never would've thought those things would be so eager to chuck fruits they've been growing for 25 years, yet somehow it's an exception with the twins…"

Nina smiled lightly. "What time is it?"

"A little after 6."

She couldn't tell who answered her that time, but she nodded her head at the answer all the same. Footsteps continued walking in that short pace, and even though she couldn't outright see her, Nina could already make sense of the fact that Lizzie was the one standing at her bedside to her left. Fee snorted once more as she cursed the Slytherin Captain's name and Nina could tell she was on her right.

"You guys haven't had dinner yet?"

"Just left the Great Hall, actually. As soon as Wood told us, we came straight here."

"Where's Alex?"

"With Wood by now," Lizzie explained. "He said he needed to go back Potions to get his stuff and clean up what's left of that sodding potion. Claims that he didn't need anyone to go with him, but Alex knew better. Especially if they ran into Flint or any of his Housemates."

Something cool clenched Nina's lungs and the apprehension she had been trying so hard to resist soon came undone. "Oliver's angry, isn't he?"

"Oh, he's livid. Anyone with their right minds could tell. But he's trying awfully hard not to let it show. Keeping a rather calm head about him throughout this whole thing, to be honest."

"Rather frightening to imagine what would happen if he wasn't so calm," Lizzie muttered.

"I know Oliver would never really want to harm anyone, but he can be rather rash when he's angry enough…" Nina blinked repeated to try and settle anything into focus, but to no avail. Only a pinch in the back of her sockets and a pain that felt like a grindylow trying to swim from one orifice to another. "Can you guys keep an eye on him? Just until he's settled down. I would myself, but considering the circumstances right now, it's a bit… well…"

"The last thing I expected was to hear you make a joke of all this, Nina."

Lizzie's voice held no derision or scolding. Quite the opposite, in fact; almost to the point where Nina could almost bet that there was a matching grin that came with her words. Then there was a stillness and a sigh, and the grin from her memory seemed to disappear into thin air.

"You're not mad at all? _Flint_, of all people, is the one that got you in this mess to begin with. You realize that, don't you?"

"I know." The recollection of the Slytherin made her heave another sigh, though for different reasons than they expected. "I remember, Liz. But… Honestly, Flint wouldn't be able to tell the difference between stirring a potion clockwise and anticlockwise. It doesn't really make any sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm only saying that Marcus Flint's hand at Potions is subpar to that of a monkey that stole a wand. He wouldn't have known that Lucifer's Light and powdered moonstone would've reacted the way it did."

"You… don't think he did it?"

"I know he did. Everyone does. But…"

"Wait, you're _defending_ him?" Fee gaped, pacing stopped and curses paused.

Nina shook her head. "Only saying that I think that it really was an accident."

"An accident that'll incur the wrath of practically the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and a group of very irked Housemates," Lizzie said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Even if you _do_ give Flint the benefit of the doubt, it doesn't quite mean that the others will feel the same way."

"I sure as bloody hell don't," Fee muttered.

Nina smiled faintly. By then, she could imagine the stubborn pout on her friend's face and her arms folded firmly across her chest. "Then I won't try to make you guys think otherwise. I just… don't want you guys to worry so much. Or to be so upset. I'm fine. Or rather… I _will_ be fine. I know that for sure."

"I, for one, still have Marcus Flint at the top of my list of people I wanna punch in the face." Lizzie sighed and Nina soon a hand rest atop hers. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. "But I suppose I'll wait until you're better to start crossing off names on that list."

As the bout of silence commenced, Nina wasn't quite sure what to make of what was going on. The air around them held a lingering sense of anticipation, thin and lithe yet enough to make them breathe deep and hold, waiting. After a while, when Lizzie cleared her throat under the guise of courtesy, Fee was the one that finally let out her breath—a conceding puff, more than anything else—and found her seat on the edge of the bed with a heavy plop.

"Fine. As long as you get better, that's all that matters to me. But just say the word—or better yet, if _he_ says a word, even one, then I'll hex that prick silly. He won't even remember how to spell his own name by the time I'm done with him."

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Fee," Nina told her friend with a quiet laugh.

"Well that's what he deserves." Fee said in a tone that bore no room for protest. "He's been a git since the day we ever met him, but this was one step too far. I have no problems with using my wand to get him back in line."

"I guess it's all the more reason to let the twins have a go at him. Tell Oliver I said that when you see him, he'll understand what I mean." Nina reconsidered her words. "Although… Try to make sure that none of them actually try to _kill_ Flint when they try to have their fun, okay?"

Lizzie didn't bother to hide her laugh. "You're far too nice for your own good, Nina."

Another smile curled the corners of her lips. It all almost seemed natural.

**— ~ —**

By the time Oliver stepped foot into the hospital wing, he was tired and hungry and had a headache that was grinding upon the bits of stability he had left; though, for that one he partially blamed the potion that he had to clean up.

Snape was surprised to see the Gryffindor back in the classroom not long after the final bell rang; even more so when he had offered to be the one to clean up the mess that was made earlier in class. By some unforeseen force of nature, Oliver actually saw a flicker of compassion—or whatever sentiment that was bloody close enough to it—that probably led to Snape excusing the lad from doing anything more that night.

But by then, Oliver had no patience—and perhaps even less than a sane mind—when he countered that he didn't need any special sympathy just because a potion went awry. After all, as he reasoned, if they were the ones that did wrong, then they should be the ones to blame.

Snape said nothing after that, only gave a look that somehow aggravated Oliver to no bloody end, up to the point where he was moments shy from saying 'sod it all' and taking back his own words. Not long before he gathered the nerve to do so, Alex had suddenly appeared in the classroom, claiming that he was there to help him out. But Oliver saw the pretense of it all. Alex didn't trust Oliver being alone with a Slytherin in any form or fashion, and despite the cool indifference he had been trying hard to portray, Oliver didn't think he could trust himself alone with them either.

In reality, Oliver had been trying to keep his mind busy with some inane task or another. Cleaning, running tasks and errands for Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout—anything to keep his mind off the anger that would have surely manifested had he given it any more thought. Merlin knows what were to happen if Oliver were to have done so. And Merlin help them if he were to actually run into Marcus Flint, of all people, in either cases.

The infirmary was quiet, and the first year that was snoozing away on one of the beds earlier was already long gone. Nina was curled up on the bed he last saw her on, her back to the entrance of the wing and white covers pulled snugly to her shoulders. A part of him felt a trickle of relief sink into his taut muscles, and the shadows of doubt he had quickly dissipated into another sigh.

"Mr. Wood?" He turned and found the school matron emerging from her office. A skeptical brow rose at the sight of him and she wiped her hands onto her apron as she approached. "It's near 9 now. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that visitors are restricted around this hour."

Oliver glanced at his wristwatch and grinned faintly. "I've got three minutes left then."

"And counting."

"How is she?"

Pomfrey gave him a sympathetic smile and motioned him forward with a light wave of her hand. Taking that as a sign of approval, he continued down the aisle towards the only occupied bed. Her satchel rested on a nearby nightstand, beneath a stack of her neatly folded uniform and robes, and her glasses with cracks in the center frames laid close by.

His movements were quiet as he eased onto the vacant chair at Nina's bedside, resting his knapsack onto the ground as soundlessly as he could. Hopes that allayed the unrest he felt eventually receded back to the depths of his mind as he watched Nina quietly wipe her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her pullover before lying still to feign slumber once more. There were no sobs, no cries—just tears and swollen cheeks, red and raw one wipe after the other, and pink lips that were bitten and pursed one too many times.

His brows had furrowed and the tight clench in his jaw went lax as he reached over to shake her shoulder gently. He could feel her stiffen under his touch, but he made no move to pull away.

"It's only me."

"Oliver?"

"Yeah. It's just me, Nina."

"Oliver." Every terse muscle and bone went slack. Her dark eyes blinked repeatedly, the same slow and pained contractions, but still they reflected back the same dark, empty voids. She took solace under the covers to wipe her weary features and tried to sit upright in her place, but Oliver pushed her shoulders back down in a firm but careful grip.

"You should be resting, lass. Don't get up."

"What time is it?"

"Almost 9."

Nina eased herself back to lay on her side, brows creased ever so slightly though her voice remained passive. "Curfew?"

"It's alright. Madam Pomfrey doesn't seem to mind much either."

The corners of her lips twitched aloft. "I think she's starting to have soft spot for you too, Mr. Wood."

"About time then, isn't it? After six years, you'd think I'd be her favorite patient to Heal around here. Already got the process and procedures all memorized down to the 'T'." Smiles were accompanied by more sniffles. He dug into his pocket and reached for her hand. "Got something of yours I thought you might wanna have back."

Her wand of cherry wood was laid against her palm and she smiled at the familiarity as she gripped it tight. "You found it?"

"While cleaning up the potion from earlier. I forgot to give it to Alex so he could put it with the rest of your stuff."

"Thank you. For keeping it with you till now, I mean."

"No problem."

Nina held her wand in her grasp for a moment longer, memorizing every curve and nick that had been worn over time. After a bout of passing reminiscence, she tucked it away under her pillow and pulled the covers over her shoulders, almost looking as if she were trying to conceal every hesitation and anxiety that had slipped through the cracks. But then she stopped.

"Oliver."

"What?"

She heard his voice, and the ease she felt made her concede. It was no use trying to hide. The thought alone was enough to tire her out. Her eyes closed for a few seconds before opening, staring, almost as if searching.

Her voice came wearily. "Can I tell you something, Oliver?"

"Go ahead."

"To be honest, I'm… really, really scared."

"Yeah." He paused for a moment, collected himself and the thoughts that were close to drifting away, and continued on in the same absentminded murmur, "I am too."

"Can you stay here?" she asked him. "Just for now? Just so I'm not alone?"

_Alone_.

Hearing the syllables from her lips triggered a recollection from weeks, months ago. It was the same exact words, for the same exact reasons—an uncharacteristic trait of any typical Gryffindor, yet still human all the same. Fear was never something he could he say he truly understood. Sensibility came with courage and bravery and he knew well enough when to use all three. But _fear_ was never a common thread he actually experienced in his knitted life of Quidditch and Hogwarts and strategic paradigms.

Yet, somehow in that moment, when he recalled what Nina Fey told him all those months back, he started to have an inkling of what it really meant to be afraid. To be alone, to be in the dark. It made him feel horridly uncomfortable, almost crippling. His chest felt tight, as if someone had him by the ventricles of the heart, and his mind went blank, completely unaware of what to properly say, what to even do. Perhaps that was what struck him the hardest. He didn't think there was anything else he could do.

His hand reached out to brush back damp strands of her dark hair from her face, soft strokes against her warm cheeks, careful and light as if grazing timeless porcelain. Shades of white and burgundy caught the corner of his eye and he turned his head to meet that pale-colored gaze. Madam Pomfrey offered him a small, kindly smile before nodding her head and turning around to head back to her office.

Slim, cool digits traced his before lacing together with natural ease. Something about it all struck him as odd, but somehow it was as if it made the most sense. Rough skin and soft palms, cracked lines and smooth knuckles. Opposite in almost every single way yet still a perfect, simple fit.

"I'm not going anywhere, Nina."

And the Gryffindor Captain kept true to his word.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 227/2015_


	25. Chapter 25

**Simple Circumstance**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 25 – To Fly or Fall<strong>

* * *

><p>It was the smell of cinnamon that she remembered most. Spicy and sharp, taken in with indescribable greed and let out with the hint of apples stamped onto taste buds. Her fingers were long and arms were bare. Cold feet were anchored in place, and she could feel the coarse texture of a worn oriental rug between her toes. It was an intricate design of red and blue and black, with a vague stain that strangely reminded her of orange juice and pulp. She could scarcely remember.<p>

A beige plush couch with throw pillows of mint green and blue pinstripes was off to the side, and wingback chairs with dark print were in front of a lavish stone wall and fireplace. Cabinets and end tables, knick-knacks and décor picked with a feminine touch, sunlight peeking between lace curtains and open windows—they were all things she knew, but couldn't say. Everything felt hazy, as if she were drifting, light as feather yet lucid and whole. A delirium of warmth that just felt so right.

In a corner of the room, she saw a piano, modest in size and easy to dismiss. It called to her, drew her closer, one step after another, and then she stopped. A loud screech penetrated the veil of calm and she turned in her place. There was an archway there, opening up to what looked to be a kitchen and a back door that led to a garden flooded by sunshine, engraved into her memory of Sunday mornings. She could practically smell the waft of butter and syrup hanging in the air, could glimpse the stalks of sweet pea and bluebell from the muggy glass of the back door.

Again, there was a screech; louder, more abrupt. Wings flapped beside her and she turned to see a large barred owl perched on the open windowsill. Its brown and white plumage gleamed in a healthy sheen underneath the warm rays that thawed the cool room. Dark orbs as black as night stared at her, waiting, scrutinizing—a soulful gaze that paralyzed her as much as it left her breathless.

_Ollie_.

The owl turned its head, curious, and screeched once more. Something in her smiled. She reached out to stroke the spot on its chest she knew it liked so much.

_"Nina."_

But they both froze.

Her eyes wandered, narrowing at the archway to see what who was there, but not finding a single trace. She looked to the owl once more and met its dark, piercing gaze. Something flickered, as if remembering a passing rumination, and then it blinked in the same cadence as she did.

A latch came undone and the large door on the farthest wall crept open, leading to a world of vibrant greens and vast blues that smelled of mist and sweet rain. With one last tilt of its head, the owl flapped its wings with a shriek and hopped off the windowsill, kicking up a soft gust around her as it ascended into the air.

The feeling of alarm seemed overwhelming. Morning shine had waned to sleepy dusk. Traces of brown and white began to disappear into the sky-kissed hills and crested peaks. Her stomach coiled. Her footsteps led her forward.

_"Nina."_

She glanced at the archway, straining to hear the voice that she couldn't distinguish, squinting to see who was so full of warmth and comfort that seemed too good to be true. Something in her had calcified into a feeling of pure indecision, thick and heavy, laced with stinging doubts and pocked with open-ended answers.

_"Nina."_

The owl's silhouette was nearly gone, a lone star in the fading dark horizon. Light footsteps sunk deeper and deeper, rooting her in her place. Numbness trickled into her toes. Sinking seemed natural, _inevitable_. And as she did, the cold hard ground gave away like thin ice.

She sank, deeper and deeper, until she reached the dusty rinds of early dusk. Deeper and deeper until the swollen sun had disappeared and stars that glistened and burst were painted onto a canvas of violet and navy. Falling and falling until the speckled stars disappeared into an abysmal silence. Falling until syllables swirled and quivered, and her name rippled in the air like monochrome ribbons.

Then all came to a muted crash. Her heart dropped, air left her lungs, and all was dark. Darker than any oblivion she could ever imagine.

But still, she felt like she was drifting.

**— ~ —**

Prosana Visus was a _horrid_ potion.

Madam Pomfrey had warned Nina of this fact herself the very first day. It's a powerful beast, the matron told her—as if some devilish fiend was trying to claw its way out with nails and grit. In truth, it wasn't much of a devious little fiend than a dragon snarling with fire and baring its teeth, trying to gnarl its way through tissue and bone from such a small confined space. From the first dose it had Nina curled into a ball, absolutely debilitated.

Quite frankly, they were both rather taken aback by the side-effects, but the matron wasted no time and brewed up a sleeping draught with enough potency to knock out a troll. She reassured Nina once or thrice that only a drop or two would do well enough for her; though by that point, Nina really didn't mind it either way.

Time seemed to pass by too quickly. Very scarcely, she recalled someone helping her up, moving about, eating, drinking, even using the bathroom once or twice. But it all blended together in incomprehensible blocks, large nicks in her string of memories.

The only thing she could recall for sure was drifting in and out of a dense, shifting darkness that was so thick and penetrating that it once made her wonder if she was even existing at all. Until one day—she assumed it was daytime, anyway—there was a sudden stream of white when she awoke.

Most of it came like frost on windowpanes, swept away by blinking eyelids yet rolling back in like morning fog. Little by little, color came back in some form or another. Bleary and unfocused, but still color all the same.

Nina couldn't make out if it was soon after or much later, but more sounds became distinguishable when she was awake. Familiar voices were more prominent in the fray—Fee and Lizzie's most of all.

"It's Wednesday." They always made it a point to tell her the day of the week first whenever they got a chance to speak to her. "Wednesday, third block. Got that, Nina?"

She would nod her head. They would ask her to repeat it, and she always did. "Wednesday. Third block."

They would go on to ask questions to make sure Nina could say who she was, where they were, what House they were in—standard procedure for any potion for the mind, as she overheard Pomfrey once say.

"Who's our Head of House?"

"Professor McGonagall."

"Then who are we?"

"Lizzie. And Fee."

"And who do you fancy again?"

That time it was a question that deviated from the normal list, that much she remembered; and quite honestly, she didn't feel in her right mind to say the answer they all knew. But she replied, without hesitation, "Evie the House-elf."

And before they could utter a question asking why, she held her hands a short distant apart, as if holding something in the palm of her hand, "Because of the chocolate scones and croissants that she makes. You can tell which ones are hers. The ones with powdered-sugar crescent moons. They're very good, you know."

Lizzie muttered something about Nina being off her rocker and called Pomfrey over to ask if her dose of potion was a bit _too_ strong. Nina couldn't help but feel the corners of her lips curl.

_Maybe I am_, was the last thought that came to mind before she fell to the clutches of slumber once more.

After the third day—because she remembered with precision that it was a Friday that day—the mixture of colors and sound almost convinced Nina that she was better. This _was _better, though admittedly not in the wholesome sense of the word. But certainly enough to convince her to think she could walk about as she normally could.

Perhaps it was the powerful concoction that didn't seem much different from spirits—or perhaps it was the rush of adrenalin that blinded the pain. Whatever the case, Nina was out of her bed after a few bites of her breakfast of porridge and water.

"Finally up and about on your own?"

Nina shifted her gaze from the swells of white and beige that made her eye sockets tingle. "After all the trouble you and Fee went through to have me walk around the other day, I figured I shouldn't take it for granted and do it myself for once."

"You remember that?"

"Bits and pieces of it." She slipped on her cardigan after checking if it was inside-out and smiled in thanks when she felt Lizzie reach to catch her when she swayed. "I'm kinda getting the hang of feeling my way around. I made it to the courtyard and back last time."

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey wasn't too thrilled with that one. I've never seen her so fussy before, but she was rather frightening, to be honest." A thought occurred to Lizzie and she glimpsed around cautiously. "Where is Pomfrey, anyway?"

"I heard a few people coming into the infirmary earlier, maybe second or third years. Something about nearly being gobbled up by Sommer Pixies during Care of Magical Creatures. It's nothing too serious, from I could make out. Madam Pomfrey's been busy treating the lot of them in the Hufflepuff basement."

"Sounds like she won't even notice if you're out for a few minutes then, hm?"

Nina smiled in agreement and their arms interlocked as Lizzie led them down the aisle.

"How's Wood?" the caramel-haired teen asked after a while.

"I was going to ask you that myself, actually."

"What, you haven't spoken to him at all this whole week?"

"Not that I can recall. Only you and Fee. I'm not even sure if I remember Alex or the twins coming by."

"Makes sense. None of them have break periods until the afternoon. You're usually knocked out cold by then."

"What block period is it now?"

"Third. It's almost done, maybe a minute or two left."

"Friday…" They continued down the corridor and Nina squinted, only to mentally note not to do it anymore after feeling the twinge of pain behind her eyes. "Oliver has Muggle Studies right now."

Lizzie smiled and was ready to make a comment on her friend's confidence in such a fact. But at the last second, she opted out of that option and went for a more direct route instead.

"He's been in the infirmary every night since you've been admitted. Did you know that?"

Nina slowed her pace for a moment, but quickly caught up to her friend in a single stride. "I didn't."

"You wanna hear my take on it?" Nina responded with a little nod, to which Lizzie grinned. "No matter what kind of a person someone may be, no one sits and waits at another person's bedside just because of a passing whimsy. They're there for a reason, good or bad. Kinda makes you wonder what Oliver Wood's reason is, doesn't it?"

Nina smiled vaguely and tugged at her friend's arm to lead them forward.

Another question edged to the tip of Lizzie's tongue but it went unsaid. Yet somehow it projected itself in simple, languid sigh. It nestled deep into the late spring air and hung over their heads like a forecast of possible contemplations and drizzling thoughts.

Nina could make out what the wandering question asked.

Do_ you know the reason why?_

But in her mind it was rather foreign.

In the last few weeks, even before the incident at Potions, Nina couldn't really seem to find the right words to say. But after a while, she gave up trying. It was too technical and calculating trying to find the right fit—too insincere and forced to try to say the right thing. She left it up to her conscience and chance, and that seemed to be enough.

In truth, her relationship with Oliver Wood was never really different. But things had changed; and while she couldn't rightfully say it was the same for Oliver, Nina could feel it in every tug to the chest, every held breath.

Everything from the way they smiled to share a joke; the way their shoulders bumped together as they walked to class; the way they would pause, just for a few moments, for no apparent reason at all. It was sometimes silly, and most times she even thought it was a bit too simple. But there was always a spur that stayed with her when they parted, like a candle amidst logic and reason that tried to extinguish the flame. It would always burn bright and long. Never flinching or flickering, only burning. Warming her bones with the simplest look and accelerating her heart with the slightest graze.

_When it's right_, Nina finally decided. _It'll come when it's right_.

Shaking her head slightly to diminish the conclusions, Nina sighed to herself and fixed her gaze to the swells of blues and whites over their heads.

"How's everything been going so far?" she asked.

"With?"

"Mm, you and Fee first."

"Rather well, I think. Fee isn't close to murdering any of the Slytherins, if that was your major concern. Not after that dueling session in DADA earlier this week, that is. Honestly, I think Professor Lupin was doing us all a service for pulling that one out of the blue. For a House that's supposed to be skilled at the Dark Arts, most of them are rubbish at dueling."

"Fee's hand at DADA is terrifying enough for most sane wizards and witches," Nina said lightheartedly.

"Very true," Lizzie replied with an offhanded grin.

"Then what about you? And Alex? Everything alright?"

"I suppose."

The sound of Lizzie's voice made Nina frown. She reached for her friend's elbow and they continued down the corridor at the same easygoing pace.

"I wish you'd give me more credit than that, Liz."

"What do you mean?" Lizzie asked, honestly perplexed.

Nina gripped her friend's arm, though not too tightly or unkindly. More comforting than anything else. "You and Alex. Something's happened, right? Why else would he not be here with you this past week? It's always just you and Fee. You're the only two I remember, anyway."

"He's been busy studying in the library or study halls." Lizzie let out a deep sigh like it was habit. "Any spare time he's had beyond that, he's been with his other friends. Wood and their roommates—you remember them."

"You never really like them," Nina pointed out in thought.

"Only because it always seemed like they were hogging Alex away from me whenever they were around. Sounds rather petty, doesn't it? Almost makes me sound like a five year-old without her toy."

"Not really petty. Lovesick, maybe, but that's well within reason."

"Lovesickness. Maybe that's it." Lizzie smiled vaguely. Another habit left her lips, and along with it was the smile. "I hate this, y'know. I get what Alex is trying to say. NEWTs and apprenticeships—things like that really matter to him right now. I get that. He wants to have a good future ahead of him. I get that too. But somehow I feel really… abandoned. Maybe not in the traditional sense, I mean… he's always been there with me no matter how irritated I get with him. But I can't help but feel like something's missing now. Like… we left something behind some many weeks back and we forgot to pick it up again."

Nina was quiet for that short time, attentive though almost fascinated. But by the end, she felt a sort of hollow feeling. Not an emotional emptiness, but rather a strange sense of loss. As if the missing piece that Lizzie was speaking of somehow managed to break a piece away in Nina herself and disappeared without a trace.

"A feeling like something's changed?"

"It hasn't though. Not that I know of, at least. It just… doesn't feel _right_. Like something's missing. Or maybe something has changed. Maybe I just haven't noticed it after all this time."

Right then and there, Nina stopped in their trek to give her best friend a hug. It was clumsy and abrupt, but it roused a little laugh from the caramel-haired teen.

Lizzie wasn't by any means sad during her piece; in fact, she was very thoughtful and precise, choosing the exact words that she hoped would make sense. Nina couldn't explain it properly, but listening to Lizzie created a sudden impulse for warmth, for comfort—the same sort of comfort she imagined Lizzie would need right then. And judging from the firm embrace her friend returned, she wasn't far off.

"What was that for?" Lizzie asked, still amused.

"'Cause I thought you needed it." Nina parted from her friend and gave her shoulders a gentle shake. "This doesn't seem like something you can sort out easily on your own, Liz. Alex's really quick when it comes to understanding what goes on in a girl's head on his own, but this sounds like something you need to work out together. Even if you are upset with him right now, I think you both deserve a chance for that much."

With another deep breath taken in, Lizzie nodded her head, which Nina could barely make out the traces of. "I might just do that," she said.

Nina's arm was taken once more and they continue down the halls in a more breathable silence. There was a lightheaded buzz at the brim of her mind, though she couldn't tell if it was the work the potion or her new uplifted mood. She decided to think it was both.

"A chocolate scone sounds good right about now," she couldn't help but say aloud.

Lizzie laughed. "Merlin, you and sweets, I swear. Your little love confession for Evie's scones the other day was all I could think about during breakfast. There was a whole plate of them this morning."

Nina was almost disappointed. "I haven't had those in a while."

"I'll get you one next time then."

Smiles faded at the sound of the bell. It had a loud, piercing tone to it that wouldn't leave Nina's head, even well after it ended. Soon enough, they stepped out from the steady stream of students and stopped to sit at the stone balustrades that surrounded the courtyard. But the heavy hum of chatter in the air didn't help with the sudden throb in Nina's temples.

"You alright, Nina?" Lizzie asked, concerned. She looked her over and murmured, "You look rather pale right now…"

Nina nodded. "I'll be fine. I guess the potions are getting to me now."

"C'mon, I'll take you back to the infirmary."

"It's alright. I can make it on my own once we get up the tower. Snape's class is on the other side of the castle, Liz. You'll be late if you take me all the way to the infirmary."

"Don't be silly. C'mon."

Lizzie held her arm to help her up and they continued back the way they came with particular care in their steps. Nina tried to hurry forward for Lizzie's sake, but her friend remained firm in her steady strides.

"I couldn't care less about Snape's affinity for late Gryffindors," she said with a good-natured pat to Nina's arm. "Even if it is rather eerie at times. But still, my marks in his class are the best in our group. I can handle a…" Her words stalled for a moment before coming out as a dulled grumble. "…grimy Slytherin."

"Lizzie?" But then she heard a familiar voice. Along with the anger seeped within it.

"Powdered moonstone and Lucifer's Light—did it even occur in that mind of yours what it would make?"

_"_Get off your bleeding high horse, Wood. I never said—"

"She's _blind_." Lizzie tried to call out his name, but neither of them heard her. Nina furrowed her brows. The bleary swells of black and grey she saw in the masses made it impossible to make out what was going on. "Whatever you're trying to pass off as regret or remorse can get shoved up your own arse for all I care. We don't need to hear it after all the shit you've pulled."

"I don't give a flying fuck what a self-entitled prick like you thinks," Flint countered heatedly. It simmered down for a moment as he went on, gruffly, "Just… answer my question."

But the Gryffindor Captain sounded more irritated. _Angry_. "I have every fucking reason to end this little game of yours, you goddamn—"

"Oliver."

The air around them thickened. Nina squinted again despite the pain in her sockets as she tried as hard as she could to finally _see_. But there was only blurs of black and grey and tan and blue—none of it comprehensible other than school robes and stone and pale Scottish skies.

Lizzie frowned, watching as the Captains' expressions either paled or became, genuinely, troubled. With one last undecipherable glare directed to the cobblestone ground, Flint brushed past the Gryffindors and continued across the courtyard. Lizzie's stern look didn't dropped until he finally disappeared from her line of sight.

"You're lucky we came along," she pointed out. "Even though you've been keen on avoiding Flint all week, it was only a matter of time before it all erupted somehow. Not too ugly this time, from the looks of it."

"What the hell are you are two doing?" His voice had a harsh firmness to it that they both recognized as his Captain-like demeanor. He faced Lizzie, especially, as if she was the one behind it all. "She shouldn't be up and out like this, you know that."

"Oliver," Nina called out again. The warning in her voice was more prominent that time.

Lizzie didn't particularly like the tone he used, or the implications he hinted at. But Wood was angry, and she understood why. She could hardly blame him for it, anyway. With that in mind, her cool look formed into an apologetic one—a ruse to ease his wrath, somewhat. If it were anyone else or any other occasion, she might've given a smack to the face of the poor soul who irked her.

"Just figured that some sunlight and circulation would do some good. It's not that big of a deal." Lizzie placed Nina's hand on the Captain's arm and gave them both a solid pat. "Take Nina back for me, Wood. You're on your break period now, aren't you? I gotta get going to Potions."

Nina nodded her head slowly. Oliver couldn't hide his vague glower, no matter how hard he tried. Nonetheless, he watched the caramel-haired teen hurry down the corridor. And for a split second, he was almost convinced he saw a sort of grin on her face before she turned the corner.

_Fuckin' hell_…

Oliver was very tired by that point. This, Nina could tell from the sigh she heard.

"Owl."

He exhaled curtly. "He's not going anywhere near you."

"Who?"

"You know who. _Flint_. You can't be alone with him. I don't trust him. I'll tell Pomfrey if I have to. Someone'll stay with you until you get better. After that, Alex and the twins can walk you to class when I can't. Even Fee and Lizzie or Katie and the girls."

Despite the surprise that engulfed her, Nina gave a quiet laugh. "Isn't that being a bit too overcautious for a person like Marcus Flint?"

"I don't care," he muttered. "As long as you're not by yourself."

Oliver sounded far off, even with him right in front of her. Nina stared up at him and slowly, vaguely, could somewhat make out the lines of his jaw, the shape of his nose. They were close enough for her to reach out and touch, and as she did, with her palms against his brusque cheeks that felt warm to the touch, she found that his eyes were more distinct. She could recognize that deep brown shade anywhere.

"You're worrying too much," she told him with a small smile.

Oliver wasn't caught off-guard realizing close Nina was to him or how soft her hands felt. Instead he was more surprised at how earnestly she stared up at him. As if she could take in every miniscule detail that she was seeing and recite it without fail right at that moment. But the fleeting thought vanished like a tide and what rolled in next was a surge of pent-up irritation.

"_I don't trust him_," he told her one last time.

"Do you trust me?"

"With the stunt you're pulling right now, I'm starting to wonder if I should," Oliver said with frown. But he couldn't tell if she could see that one or not. "What are you doing out of the infirmary? What about your potions?"

"I can take them when I get back. I just wanted to walk around, get some fresh air. Lizzie and Fee think it's good for me. I kinda wanna agree." There was a sudden look of reprimand that appeared across her features. "You know, you shouldn't have scolded Lizzie like you did earlier. I was the one who wanted to get up and walk a little. She was just there to help me."

"Doesn't change the fact that you, of all people, _shouldn't _be doing it."

"You're being stubborn."

"Aye. I'm stubborn as a bloody mule and growing cotton buds in my ears 'cause I don't listen to a single word people say. But it's nowhere near as stubborn as the girl who won't take her potions to get better just 'cause she wants to stay up past her bedtime."

Nina smiled. Oliver wasn't as angry as before. More vexed, perhaps, but certainly not angry. She considered that a step forward in some form.

"That may be so," she said. "But I _am_ getting better. I can see what's in front of me a little bit. Maybe not clearly, but I can make out the colors and shapes of things. I can walk around, and I can even change my clothes without much help. And, look, I can kinda see you now too. Dark hair, dark eyes." Her fingers traced along his jawbone and he resisted the urge to clench it shut. She blinked and stared him in right in the eye without even knowing. "You didn't shave, did you?"

"Stop."

Nina froze, unsure of what to do. "S… Stop what?"

"Everything," he muttered.

Oliver felt something in him quiver, like an unsteady footbridge on the verge of shaking loose. It was deep down, a nagging sort conscience that came about as naturally as the arms that wrapped firmly around her waist. Everything was rushing through him all at once—all the anger and frustration and irritation and worry. It was like a dogged pursuit trying to stay calm, trying to stay sane. It was tiring. Trying to find the words to say so was just as exhausting.

"Just… get better," was all he could manage to say, somewhat pleading, somewhat apologetic, somewhat even mentally spent.

But when he parted slightly from her, he saw that smile again. It was the faint one, with the slight curl of her lips that stamped out the dimple in her left cheek. The one that finally tipped the scale of reason that he resigned to hold out on, even if it were just a little bit longer. It almost didn't seem fair.

Nina was kept in a silence that was almost unsettling. But then warm lips pressed against hers, light and gentle, a shadow of forewarning that stunned her senses. Hands on her sides pulled her closer, squeezing subconsciously like a held breath. Before she could process it completely, they parted from one another, if only for a moment.

_This is a dream._

Her voice was lost and her heart was beating in a loud, unspeakable code.

Gaps in between were closed and warmth claimed her lips once more, chaste and lingering, an uncertainty that left them both still. Her eyes fluttered closed, suddenly afraid of the bleary shades of brown and grey that made her temples throb. Worn wool pressed against her palms were gripped tight. Limbs felt stiff and her lungs were frozen.

_It's all a dream_.

It was the only explanation that made sense. A passing trick of the mind, a senseless fantasy. A _dream_.

Her lips parted slightly, returning his kisses with shy naivety. His hand rested on the small of her back, his body pressed hers. Her fingers unfurled, running digits along cotton that hid the taut muscles of his chest as he traced invisible ripples along her spine.

A spark of need stayed alight in her belly, growing in inexplicable urgency with every swift claim to her lips.

_Just a dream,_ she repeated once more in her mind.

And she surrendered. To the bittersweet taste at the tip of her tongue; to the brush of his fingertips that sent shivers to her core; to the smell of soap and fading cologne that numbed her senses; to the thrill that burned in the pit of her stomach and pulsed through the chambers of her heart.

_This is just a dream_.

Warm breaths brushed against her face she pulled away, matching her own with every deep intake that didn't seem to be deep enough.

Blurs of deep brown and beige swirled into shapes and directions that made her dizzy. She rested her hands against his chest to keep herself steady and opened her eyes, only to squeeze them shut a second later.

Again, behind those eyelids, Nina saw by a thick, shifting darkness. A perfect darkness that was fluid and alive, moving like it had a mind of its own. It tricked her, made her see stars that spun and monochrome ribbons that rippled in the air. It reminded her of those dreams from the nights before. Falling and drifting and sleeping and waiting.

But it was different that time. Because she realized that time wasn't a dream. And from the very start, when she woke up, she wasn't afraid to fall.

* * *

><p><em>Edited: 618/2015_


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